


tailspin

by HeraldAros



Series: The Hatake Riku 'verse [4]
Category: Kingdom Hearts, Naruto
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chuunin Exams, Gen, Ninja Politics, Riku's questionable life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 67,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeraldAros/pseuds/HeraldAros
Summary: Hatake Riku, 14, genin medical student and recent infiltrator (and successful liberator of over a dozen prisoners) of Sound, wants to take the Chuunin Exams in Mist. So soon after the Fourth Mizukage's highly mysterious disappearance, the Exams are flooded with teams.Riku's team may be the only one from Konoha, but they're not the only familiar faces in the competition. He'll have to navigate three test phases, figure out what Sound wants with himnow, and find a place in a world he's increasingly unsure has room for someone like him.[Third full story in the Becoming Ninja 'verse.]





	1. Prologue: Career Consultation

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was...a much longer hiatus than anticipated.
> 
> In good news, just like _take violent things and make them kind_, the draft of this story is **complete**! Unfortunately, the draft is also a lot rougher than _tvt_. I'm committing to every-other-week updates, but some chapters might be delayed if they're just not ready.
> 
> The ultimate series goal is still to hit the KH1 timeline by the end of the year. This story is the last major arc before that one, with one oneshot to wrap some things up in between this and that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out, you really can't keep your job in a chakra-heavy discipline if you...don't have that much chakra. Who could've guessed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content notes** for this chapter are limited to Riku's bad decisions re: personal safety. The boy, he does not learn.

When Miss Honda calls Riku into her office, Mariko gives him a look of startled fury. Tsuru, the only person so far to confirm her willingness to take the Chuunin Exams with him, is off training with Tenten. She calls it “a reasonable person’s training regimen,” while Riku thinks of it more as “half of what he used to do at thirteen.”

Tenten doesn’t make Tsuru do _nearly_ so many wind-sprints, for one thing.

Without Tsuru, Riku has no buffer against Mariko’s glare, so he settles for putting the office door between him and her. He can still feel that look, but he can pretend he doesn’t.

Miss Honda’s desk, unlike a lot of medics Riku’s worked with over the past months, is neat, with all her patients’ folders carefully tucked into an arcane filing system she’s only shared with Anzu and Mariko.

Tsuru was always more of a tag-along, and Riku’s reading is still not the best. (Better, now! But not good enough to trust with sensitive, sometimes critical documents.)

There have been two chairs, besides Miss Honda’s, ever since she agreed to teach him. Riku takes one now. At first, he’d thought one was more comfortable than the other, and made a point of switching which one he sat in, but after rigorous testing, he’s concluded they’re identical.

“I’ll get to the point,” Miss Honda says. Her back is straight, her single eye piercing. Unlike Kakashi, there are no laugh-lines around it. The other is covered, but the scar that drags down her cheek is as intimidating as ever. She’s never shared how she got it. “I don’t see a future for you in the medical corps.”

Riku jolts. “What? Why not?”

That eye bores into him. “Describe your experience with the Mystical Palm Technique.”

Frowning, thoughts spilling everywhere too fast and wild to contain, Riku blurts out, “I _can_ do it!”

And he can. With an assist.

Just a couple weeks after he and Mariko returned from their mission to the Leaf outpost, Miss Honda sat them both down and stepped them through the single most useful, powerful jutsu in a medic’s repertoire. She gave them scrolls on all the theory behind it, all the mechanics, and tested them on it each day until their answers were thorough and automatic. She demonstrated in front of them, on them, with them linked to her chakra so they could feel what she felt.

It’s like a scan, but more. Not deeper—Riku’s never scanned deeper than he did in Sound, when he got as far as Kimimaro’s bone marrow, and that’s more than most medics ever need—but _more_. A scan is just a scan, just information. The Mystical Palm jutsu lets a medic _directly_ heal their patient, chakra to bodily systems.

Then Miss Honda gave them reams of research on all the ways it could be abused, misused, or messed up, drilled them on the basics of how to catch their mistakes before those mistakes irrevocably damaged their patient. How to fix other people’s mistakes, too.

Finally, after all that, she had them practice on dead fish.

Two things quickly became clear. One: Mariko has great chakra control compared to most nin, but the Mystical Palm jutsu requires _such_ precise, fine chakra control that she can’t seem to master it. Two: Riku’s chakra control, after some practice, is up to par, but his chakra reserves are too limited for him to ever be able to use the jutsu without help.

Frustratingly, he _can_ get it to work. He’s whittled down how much chakra it needs, same as he does for all jutsu he uses, to the bare minimum. But the technique is a constant drain when active, and whatever lets Riku regenerate chakra faster than everyone around him just isn’t fast enough.

He can activate it, can connect to his patient, can get his chakra into them, and then it collapses. More than a few times, _he’s_ collapsed, trying to keep it for a precious few seconds longer, hoping the chakra regeneration will give him enough back for him to salvage the connection, or restart it with only a brief interruption.

Instead, he’s learned that his chakra _won’t_ come back until he’s tapped out and stopped using it and trying to stretch his limits gets him put on bedrest and observation for two days.

An unimpressed-looking dog sits at the foot of his bed for the whole time. Riku’s never felt so judged. He doesn’t push that hard again. (No one, not even the most finicky nurses, bats an eye at the dog. They also don’t scratch behind his ears or pet him, just give him a nod of acknowledgment before turning to Riku and explaining, using small words, why he’s an idiot. _All of them_ do that.)

Miss Honda, in the face of both her students’ equal but varied failures, had them link their chakra. If Mariko’s in charge, Riku can sometimes nudge her into a semblance of control, but it’s shaky, and it isn’t like _Riku’s_ providing her any chakra. If Riku’s in charge, though, it works: Mariko’s basically a judgey battery, and Riku can get things done. He brings the fish back to life, then the next half-dozen.

Haven’t they done well? They’re progressing—Anzu mentioned yesterday that they can move up to more complicated animals soon. So why this, now?

“Not on your own,” Miss Honda says. “A medic-nin _has_ to be able to function on their own. You can’t rely on your team having chakra to spare. With your reserves, even using a soldier pill would kill you.”

Riku blanches. He _owns_ soldier pills, because they seemed handy in a pinch. He’s treated the exhaustion they bring, figured he knew what he was getting into, but… “Really?”

Miss Honda nods. “You’ve been a decent student.” The words are plain, not grudging; Riku might smile, any other time. “You know that the chakra system is deeply entwined with the rest of the body. Severe damage to one can and does affect the other. In your case, it isn’t damage so much as malnourishment. Your chakra coils are underdeveloped and too small to support the surge of chakra a soldier pill would bring. It would be a question of which would collapse first: your chakra system, your heart, or your lungs.”

A pause, as she gives him time to process that. Then she adds, a small kindness, “It’s likely the size of your chakra coils has helped your chakra control. You can work to develop your coils; they will expand, with time and effort.”

“Why can’t I do that and be a medic-nin?” He tries, he really tries, not to sound sullen.

Miss Honda’s expression turns flat again. “It will take time, and in that time, you will have to remain at your current level. We do not employ chuunin as interns in the hospital, Hatake.”

Riku makes a face. “I don’t have to be an intern.”

She shakes her head. “You would need a specialty, or more reserves for the other jutsu medics must learn. So far, you have demonstrated no interest, no proficiency in any specific area of medicine.”

“What about the Hokage’s program, to put medics on combat teams?” Riku tries. “I could do that.” That was always his goal—to join Naruto’s team. His uncle’s team. A combat team.

“The Mystical Palm Technique is a requirement, barring a relevant specialty.”

“I could _learn_ a specialty.”

Miss Honda sighs, a short burst of air. “Most specialties require either above-average chakra reserves or high-level reading comprehension, neither of which you possess. If you applied yourself, you might succeed in one or the other of these, but that would require _all_ your attention, all your focus.” A pause, this one more ominous than the last. “Your own attention, Hatake, not a clone’s.”

Flushing, Riku doesn’t deny it, just asks, “How did you…?”

The expression she has is amused, which might be a first for her. “You think you’re the first medical student to try to double his study time? As soon as Mr. Gai reported you were still practicing with him, I knew what you were doing. And Uzumaki brought you to the hospital before he left—_his_ attachment to that jutsu is no secret.” Her tone isn’t much more disparaging when she talks about Naruto than it is when she addresses Riku normally.

“You would need to abandon those side projects,” she goes on. “Is staying a medic that important to you?” The answer must be written on his face, because she nods. “There. That is why I don’t see a future for you here.”

“But what else can I _do_?” Riku asks, voice cracking horribly on the last word. “I can’t—kill people.” He’s had to talk to Gai, a couple times now, about even hurting them, and he won’t be able to avoid that in the Exams.

(Violence is no stranger, not anymore, but it doesn’t live easily inside him. Sora’s scream and the smell of blood still linger at the edges of Riku’s nightmares, some nights, now joined by a parade of other images:

Chouji on the hospital bed. Shino in the arena, slowly crushed. The whole awful day of the invasion, the unrelenting smell of blood, the dead man’s gurgle, a girl’s scream at her half-blown-off hand.

Sasuke’s entire family, murdered in a color-inverted Uchiha district while Sasuke screamed their names. The Cloud-nin, bleeding out in the snow, snarling.

The sharp snap of pain from Riku’s broken arm; Karin’s whimpers, the stunning bruises on her midsection, the collage of bite-mark scars scattered across her body.)

Miss Honda gives him her most unimpressed look yet—one that rivals the dog’s, even with just one eye. (The scar might help.) “And you think _every_ ninja besides medics kills people?”

“I can’t teach.” That should be self-evident.

She rolls her eyes. She does not give him any advice, or say anything to that statement, but her intense dismissal of it indicates just how little she thinks of him, for only coming up with those two options.

Which is unfair; that was all Kakashi told him, months and months ago. Teaching or healing. Anything else, and Riku could be asked to harm someone, to kill them.

“Think,” she orders. “When you come back from the Exams, don’t come back here.”

“Even if I fail?”

“You won’t fail them all.” The confidence in her voice startles him, but when he pulls his eyes up (when had he dropped them?) to search her face, she’s stood up and turned away, surveying a bookshelf with her eye-patch facing him. “Now leave.”

He does, hurriedly, numbly, and knocks into Mariko. The door closes behind him and he nearly falls against it, while she doesn’t even rock on her heels, planted solidly in his way with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m going with you to Mist,” she declares. “Find us a jounin who isn’t useless.” And then she stalks off, while Riku’s still trying to parse her first statement.

Behind him, the door opens. Few of the hospital rooms are soundproofed, none of them offices. Miss Honda says, “The Intelligence division should have a list of which jounin have bounties in Mist.”

It’s the most supportive thing she’s said all day. Riku thanks her and takes off, glad to have something easy to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double-posting this and chapter one. :)


	2. Lying Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phase 1 of the Chuunin Exams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double-posted along with the prologue. :)
> 
> **Content notes:** mentions of canon-typical violence

Riku lines up all the things he needs and knocks them off his to-do list one by one.

Equipment? He updates everything he owns, following Tenten’s advice to the letter. (He even begrudgingly replaces all his throwing knives and stars; his aim is fine, now, but both Tenten and Gai vetoed him using projectiles in the middle of body-flickering and it still stings. Almost more than the cuts and bruises from when he’d tried to prove that he’s ready and got injured in the process.)

A team? Tsuru is behind him, and even Mariko’s thrown in.

“A jounin who isn’t useless” isn’t a tall order, exactly, except most jounin Riku knows are a) his uncle (conspicuously out of the village right now), b) banned from Mist and/or Water Country generally (Gai lets Riku down gently, regretfully), or c) idiots (most of the jounin Riku’s seen in the hospital).

Miss Honda can’t come—even if she could leave the hospital, she _wouldn’t_, and Riku doesn’t insult her by asking. Instead, he takes her advice and gets a list of non-banned jounin from Intelligence, where Ino’s dad gives him only a mildly judgmental look from across the room.

The list is full of names Riku doesn’t know. He could ask someone (Gai, maybe? Iruka?) to go through it and make some recommendations; he could find someone on this list willing to take his team to Mist based on Kakashi’s name, if nothing else.

Then he gets to 夕日紅, puzzles it out (well…he has Tsuru read the whole list out loud to him on one of their precious shared breaks) as _Yuuhi Kurenai_, and he _feels_ the click in the universe.

Kurenai taught Hinata, who passed her very first Chuunin Exams. She _lost her match_ and still passed, even. More than that, Kurenai came out of the fight with Uchiha Itachi the most unscathed out of any of the jounin. She must have _something_ interesting going on.

If Sakura was still in the village, Riku could just ask her about Kurenai, but she isn’t. If _Kakashi_ was in the village… Well, honestly, Riku would ask, but his uncle would answer him without telling him anything substantial.

So Riku swings by the Academy after school’s let out and finds Iruka in his room, grading quizzes. Unlike Kakashi, Riku uses the door, knocking before sliding it open.

Iruka tries to hide his grimace, but Riku catches it anyway. “That bad?”

The man shakes his head, but his expression is more fond than pained. “They’ll get there. What brings you to the Academy? It isn’t often I see my former students.”

That is a big fat lie and Riku lets his dubious expression speak for him. Iruka laughs and amends, “Not during the week, anyway. Aren’t you working at the hospital now?”

“Yeah.” For lack of anywhere better to sit—the gap between Iruka’s desk and the front row is too far to comfortably hold a conversation across—Riku stands next to Iruka’s desk, hands in his pockets. “I had a couple questions, actually, if you have a minute.”

“Of course.” Iruka seems to hesitate, then stands. “Let’s get something to eat. These can wait.”

Riku suspects he’s taking an excuse to _make_ the quizzes wait, but he isn’t about to question someone about their own job. “Sure. I’ll buy.”

The look _that_ earns is sharp, a little shocked. “You don’t—”

“I know I don’t have to,” Riku interrupts, “but I’m asking for a favor. It’s the least I can do.”

That, Iruka accepts, and they leave the Academy talking about inconsequential things—Iruka’s students, Riku’s coworkers. Occasionally, Iruka will recognize a name and fill in some details, little things he remembers, like _she never did understand why running around corners is a bad idea_, or _he used to have a good head for math, are you sure he _couldn’t_ do the inventory?_

Iruka takes him to a stand selling hand-rolls, fish and rice wrapped in seaweed. Riku has found _his new favorite thing_. (He doesn’t tell the seller, but he is going to figure out how to make them himself. In the meantime, he’ll just have to keep ordering hand-rolls to figure out how they’re made, won’t he?)

“I’m taking the Chuunin Exams in Mist,” Riku says, waiting for his second roll while Iruka is still making his way through his first. Old people eat slowly. That’s better for their health. “I need a jounin, though, to supervise.”

Iruka makes a noise of understanding.

“I can’t ask Gai, because he’s banned, and my uncle is out of the village, so I can’t ask him, either.”

Iruka pauses to order a second hand-roll, after what he must think is a subtle look at Riku’s wallet, out so Riku can pay for his own second roll. Between access to Kakashi’s bank accounts and his own job, Riku’s doing _great _financially. (Between the two of them, Tsunade and Kakashi sorted it out so Riku doesn’t have to worry about rent or most utilities while he lives in Naruto’s apartment. His expenses amount to food, clothes, and supplies. Not cheap, but not bank-breaking.)

“I was thinking about asking Yuuhi Kurenai,” Riku adds. “What do you think?”

Iruka looks at him thoughtfully, then asks, “Who else is on your team? Kiba and Shino?”

“No, two medical students.” The test is in less than two months, and frankly, Riku wasn’t impressed with Kiba’s _last_ Chuunin Exams performance. “Kuroishi Tsuru and Nishimori Mariko.”

“Oh, Mariko!” Iruka says in the same tone he’s used about Sakura. “She’s very bright, very dedicated. I’m not as familiar with Miss Kuroishi, but between you and Mariko…” Iruka tips a smile at Riku, sunny with confidence in him. “I’m sure you’ll go far.”

If any of Riku’s teachers on the Islands had ever looked half as pleased with him as Iruka is in this moment, Riku would have done all his homework _and_ cleaned the classroom every week. It’s impossible not to smile back.

“So, three medics… I suppose there’s some crossover between medical jutsu and genjutsu? With chakra control, if nothing else.”

“Genjutsu?”

Iruka seems to take in Riku’s confusion and almost chokes on a mouthful of rice and protein. “Ms. Yuuhi’s specialty is genjutsu. You didn’t know?”

Riku shakes his head. “That wasn’t why I picked her. Do you think she could teach me genjutsu?”

Illusions. Is it possible to get good enough at illusions to avoid fighting altogether? Riku doesn’t mind fighting, itself—but fights end in wounds, sometimes in death.

Better question: is it possible _for Riku_ to get good enough at illusions to avoid life or death situations? Ideally before Naruto gets back to the village?

Iruka probably doesn’t know. Kurenai _might_. It’s worth investigating.

(Karin had used genjutsu to convince the patrols in Sound the halls were empty. If Riku could learn even that much…)

“I’m sure she could. She might be busy getting her team ready for the Exams here, though.” Iruka shoots Riku a concerned look, lips tugged down. “Why go all the way to Mist, anyway?”

“It was sooner,” is what comes out of Riku’s mouth. It’s true, even. It just isn’t the whole truth.

The whole truth is, Riku wants to test himself, and he wants to do it away from everyone who’s familiar with him. He wants to prove himself. And, if he fails, he doesn’t want anyone _here_ to see it.

(Kakashi is out of the village, not to return until the Exams are well over. Gai can’t come; his team will be busy with their own preparations. Iruka can’t leave the school for that long. Mariko and Tsuru will be there, but Riku will just have to live with that.

Besides, Mariko lost her first Chuunin Exams in a foreign village. Hidden Mist now, under a new Fifth Mizukage, won’t be any more hostile than Hidden Rock was a couple years back. If Riku washes out of Exams held, even just partially, _in Konoha_, Mariko will never let him live it down.)

“Well, if you’re set on it,” Iruka says dubiously. “If Yuuhi says no, see me. I know several talented jounin who might agree. Are you looking for genjutsu specialists in particular?”

“Not really.”

Riku almost tells Iruka what Miss Honda said to him; almost asks for the man’s advice; almost makes it Iruka’s problem. Instead, he takes his third and final hand-roll, settles his and Iruka’s tab, and lets the man tell him about whatever dumb things his kids did earlier this week.

This is something he’ll need to figure out on his own.

///

Yuuhi Kurenai is easy enough to convince. Riku catches her with Ino’s teacher after his shift one afternoon and explains the whole situation. He still hasn’t quite got the hang of polite bowing, but he tries when he asks for the favor.

She hesitates, a little, tries to gently suggest he find someone older, more experienced. Riku stares at her.

“_You_ weren’t stuck in the hospital for weeks after fighting Sasuke’s brother,” he says flatly. “And Hinata got promoted even though she lost.”

“So did Shikamaru,” she points out, while Sarutobi chokes on a laugh beside her.

Instead of addressing that, Riku says, “And Mr. Sarutobi’s bounty in Water Country could feed a small town for a month.”

_Why_ so many jounin have bounties in other countries, Riku doesn’t know; from the war, presumably. Even if there’s some sort of system for temporarily suspending that for Chuunin Exams, he’d rather not risk it. And there might _not_ be—a lot of the genin seem to think there are only two Exams a year, and that only checks out if you disregard the Exams held outside your own and your allies’ villages.

At Riku’s comment, Sarutobi doubles over laughing; Kurenai seems to find it all much less funny. “He’s got you there,” the man says as he straightens. “Well, kid, is that the only reason you want her to teach you?”

“I also want to learn genjutsu.”

Kurenai’s face softens. “It isn’t something you can master in a few months,” she says, starting to let him down.

“I know. But I’ve already got the chakra control—I work in the hospital,” he adds, in case she doesn’t know. “I just want to learn the basics.”

She still looks unconvinced, until Sarutobi elbows her and says, “Kiba could use some competition, with Naruto out of the village.”

That decides her. “Alright,” she says, and then gives him instructions to meet at a specific training ground later that week, so she can give him homework.

_Ugh_. This had better be worth it.

///

It turns out, Riku doesn’t even have to _do_ anything to become competition for Kiba. He just shows up, says hi to Miss Kurenai and her team, and accepts his homework, and that alone seems to set Kiba off on “teacher-stealing jerks.” Shino takes it in stride, but Riku feels unfairly scrutinized by those dark glasses.

He does his homework, though, and reports back for more as necessary. Well. More often than necessary, given Miss Kurenai’s increasingly less-surprised, more-pleased expressions as he reports back nearly every other day for more work.

It’s a nice distraction from his growing frustration with what sealing texts he’s tried to wade through—so far, Riku’s made zero headway on figuring out how he was able to get his key to take out Orochimaru’s chakra-draining seal. It _shouldn’t_ have worked, according to every single book and scroll he’s read. Seals can only break from the “inside” by either error (Orochimaru hadn’t made mistakes—and anyway, most seal errors end in explosions) or a huge outpouring of chakra.

It’s kind of a Thing, apparently; for some reason, all of the more recent texts Riku’s been able to find in the library are written as if huge swaths of seal-theory just isn’t capable of being advanced, as if people a couple generations ago all hid the secrets and they’re impossible to find. No one _says that_, though, it’s all just “this would be _far_ too dangerous to attempt at the present time, oh well, guess we’ll Never Know what seals are actually capable of.”

The older texts don’t have anything like that, but they aren’t exactly helpful, either. All the ones that even mention sealing power or chakra spend page after gleeful page breaking down _precisely_ how much chakra a ninja would need to break out of this or that configuration, while Riku reads on with a scowl.

However his key managed to work, it was like locking a sliding door: physically impossible for anyone else, and therefore unexplainable. Somehow, Riku doubts Tsunade will accept that answer, though.

///

With the team all arranged, Riku reports to Tsunade to get her official blessing. He gets official paperwork instead. He fills it out to the best of his ability, which means Tsuru corrects a third of it instead of the usual half. (He’s getting better; most of her corrections are for technical details or mistakes in filling the forms out, not because he wrote the wrong characters.)

Tsunade lets him charter a ship from Wave Country to Kirigakure and doesn’t make him pay for it, but she _does_ make him turn in his request in triplicate.

An official courier takes some of the paperwork to Kiri for processing and approval. They _could_ just show up with it, but Shizune only mentions that offhandedly after Riku’s already turned it all over to the young woman who will run however many miles in a stupidly short time. Also, they’d be at the mercy of the new Mizukage, and she might decide not to let Riku’s team participate for any number of reasons.

This way, if Kirigakure rejects Konoha’s genin, they won’t have wasted a whole trip.

Then, with Riku trapped in her office, Tsunade asks how he’s doing with his ongoing mission of figuring out how his key works. Since the honest answer is “I have no clues and was really hoping you’d forget about that,” Riku hesitates, and Tsunade makes him sit in a corner and read dry, ancient texts on the history of seals while she works through four towers of folders, forms, requests, and updates.

Riku’s only prize is a throbbing headache and the suspicion that seal experts probably don’t fight people much, either—they can’t have much time for it, with how much complete nonsense they _write_. What he’s read on his own have been more introductory texts, primers on the basics, the only theoretical works he’s bothered with focusing specifically on breaking seals. What Tsunade hands him, though, looks like a handful of tomes recopied from the dawn of ninja. Even neatly printed on modern paper, the writing _feels_ stuffy. It makes Riku’s nose twitch.

Some of the oldest sealing masters believed you could only truly seal something if you knew it thoroughly, and so they spent years of their lives studying a single object, like a plum, or a feather. They would learn everything about it—color, shape, composition, life/decomposition cycle, the myriad details and tiny elements that make up all matter.

The descriptions of what those ancient masters could do defy belief. Riku really, really doesn’t think anyone ever _actually_ turned himself into a plum and let his students eat him. For one thing, he’d be _dead_, and couldn’t have written out the lengthy treatise Tsunade handed Riku.

(Eventually, when she’s tortured him enough, Tsunade gives him permission to postpone the seal research while he’s training for and taking the Chuunin Exams. As he’d sat there, resigned to his fate, he’d tried to figure out how he could get away with seal research, genjutsu lessons, and physical training without Miss Kurenai catching him using a shadow clone and ratting him out to either Tsunade or his uncle. Without the research to worry about, Riku’s left with just physical training and genjutsu practice, and unfortunately, he’s learned from experience that he really can’t use clones on anything chakra-related and physical training at the same time.)

Time wasted and head aching, Riku goes home and finds leftovers in his fridge to heat up. There’s enough—more than he was expecting—to make a whole meal, and Riku collapses into bed with the vague determination not to leave Tsunade waiting or annoy her ever again.

///

The courier returns from Kirigakure: the Mizukage has accepted their application.

Riku finishes his preparations; on a wet, early-fall day, his team departs Konoha, en route to Kirigakure.

The trip takes five days, three on foot. The highlight is when Mariko gets sullenly seasick, while Riku takes to being on the ship like he’s never touched shore.

///

The weather turns unrelentingly grey just before they catch sight of Kirigakure on the horizon. (It doesn’t let up, really, through the Exams, just sometimes lightens to a pale drizzle or goes thundercloud-dark. Riku’s read stories of places like this, but never expected to _visit_ one.)

Riku and his team spend the wet predawn at the Kirigakure port, where Miss Kurenai politely, patiently refuses to take any of the harbor-master’s crap about their paperwork (immaculate), their timing (only slightly better than expected), their appearance (the most disreputable piece is Tsuru’s shirt, a pink crop-top over a mesh shirt—she’s assured Riku privately it _isn’t_ what she plans to wear in the Exams, and in the meantime, it’s giving Mariko an aneurysm).

Finally, Miss Kurenai erodes the harbor-master’s resistance and signs off on their entry into Kirigakure.

From the embassy, they’re hustled, with barely enough time to put their packs down, to the Mist Chuunin Exams, which the Mizukage has decided to start _early_. (Later, it turns out that only half the teams from Hidden Rock had arrived, and starting the Exams early disqualified the latecomers. Ninja politics.)

The first phase of the Mist Chuunin Exams seems simple enough: a massive group of easily a hundred genin teams, all eager to see what this new Mizukage will challenge them with, are divided into squads of three to five teams and sent into different rooms of a multistory administrative building.

The sole Leaf team squeaks in without attracting too much attention. Mariko leads, despite being neither the most accomplished (technically, with his infiltration of Sound, Riku has the most high-profile missions, at a grand total of _two_ B-ranks) nor the oldest (Tsuru, who keeps casting amused-big-sister looks at the back of Mariko’s head, like she’s fond of the other girl’s complete inability to let anyone else handle _anything_).

The first inkling that it won’t be so simple comes when Riku spots the Sound team. They’ve colonized one of the desks in what looks like a cramped conference room, the big bay windows letting in little light with how grey and dreary the weather’s been. On the ship, Riku hadn’t thought anything of it—storms can be common at certain times of the year, and Miss Kurenai had warned the whole team to expect chilly weather and rain in Mist.

That warning didn’t prepare Riku for the _unrelenting _foul weather, and nothing could have prepared him for the bright shock of Karin’s hair in an otherwise drab room. Next to her, Kimimaro is a reanimated corpse—although no, on his feet and with his eyes open, he seems livelier than when Riku last saw him, comatose and dying.

The third, a girl with orange hair under a beanie, he doesn’t recognize at all. A new recruit, or someone in Sound willingly, who Riku wouldn’t have run into during his infiltration?

Tsuru jostles him, and Riku glances her way. She just says, “Hey, we’re claiming this table,” and then hops on it, swinging her legs a bit.

How she isn’t freezing in her crop-top and short-shorts, Riku has no idea. He’s not about to ask, though; Mariko will take it as validation in her campaign against Tsuru’s outfit. Mariko’s preoccupation with Tsuru’s—admittedly poor—fashion choices have left Riku with relatively few insults or judgmental looks thrown his way, and he won’t jeopardize that.

(Maybe the mesh undershirt and the thigh-high socks provide enough warmth…? Maybe Tsuru just likes cooler temperatures. Surely _someone_ must. And she isn’t going to keep it for the actual survival part of the Exams, provided they make it through this part.)

Mariko makes an unhappy sound but stands next to Tsuru. Riku takes the other side, leaning into the table and crossing his arms as he surveys the non-Sound teams.

The Cloud team looks…competent. They must all be around Tsuru’s age, fully formed adults where most of the rest of the genin in the room are still awkward adolescents. (Riku among them; besides the unfamiliar Sound girl and one of the Mist boys, he’s the shortest in the room, with hands and feet he hasn’t grown into yet.) The tallest is an icicle of a man, blond-haired, light green eyes, in a white sleeveless shirt and black pants.

He looks like a hero out of one of Riku’s novels, with a _sword_ at his hip. Broad shoulders, muscle tone all down his arms, pants not loose enough to hide similarly built calves and thighs…

Riku _really_ hopes he doesn’t have to fight this guy. Not anytime soon, anyway. (Maybe in five years, after the growth spurt his uncle’s promised him, after he’s spent that much longer working with Gai to hone his body… After Riku’s talked Tenten into moving Riku from the staff to the sword, like she said he’d get to someday.)

The other guy on that team is equally built, with darker skin than Riku’s seen since leaving the Islands. His eyes are dark, maybe a dark brown or blue, maybe even a true black. His face is a little rounder, giving him a softer, gentler air at odds with the light scarring on his forearms, the backs of his hands.

Riku’s a medic. He recognizes defensive wounds. This guy must be a close-range fighter, used to getting up in his enemy’s face and taking a hit if it means he’ll walk away victorious. Riku doesn’t spot his weapon, but that means nothing, less than nothing; ninja have a thousand secret places for all their tools.

The young woman from Cloud looks just as serious as her teammates. Like Tsuru, she’s sitting on a table; unlike Tsuru, she crosses her legs, the slit in her dress giving her enough mobility to counter an attack. At _her_ hip is a coiled whip, dark and dangerous. Her sleeves, frilly and ribboned, do a decent job of hiding her musculature, but Riku’s looking for it. Unlike her teammates, she has on gloves, delicate things that extend almost to her elbows and probably hide a number of scars.

(Tenten can use almost any weapon she can lay her hands on. A couple weeks back, Riku sprained his wrist in training, trying to block without the right hand-positioning. His staff spun out of his control, and rather than roll with it, Riku locked up, and… Well. Sprained wrist. Not a big deal, something he can _easily_ fix himself, but instead of continuing training, Tenten just started on a show-and-tell of the various scars she’s gotten, trying to use this weapon or that.

The whip scar wasn’t the worst, but it hadn’t looked pretty, either.)

By contrast, the Mist team might as well be three random genin boys. All three in high-collared, solid-colored shirts, with what look like basic knives-and-throwing-stars pouches. They’re fit enough to be dangerous but not enough to be _interesting_; they’re around Tsuru’s age, two clean-shaven and one barely stubbly, all three with close-set, suspicious eyes.

Riku wouldn’t want to take them all on in a fight, but one-on-one, he could handle them.

Of course, the first part of the Exams isn’t physical. It’s some kind of trick, a test of cleverness and espionage skills.

When a woman, old enough to have mothered the Cloud team and an expression promising to take zero crap from any of them, walks in, everyone straightens. Her forehead is bare, but there’s a Mist-branded plate on one shoulder of her flak jacket. She’s outfitted for battle, fully armed, her hair cropped shorter than Tsuru’s, almost as short as a guy’s.

Behind her, the door closes quietly, as if it doesn’t dare make a sound. The look she casts over each team is assessing, scathing; Riku can’t see a single laugh-line on her face. Maybe the weather here reflects the general mood, and no one is ever happy enough to smile.

“I will explain the first task,” she says, her voice lighter than Riku expected. “I will only do so once. Pay attention.”

///

The gist is: they’re playing a lying game. Some of them are traitors, and it’s the job of the group to figure out who and eliminate them. They have twenty minutes, and then the woman—the proctor—will put them all under genjutsu and let the traitors pick someone to get rid of.

If everyone on a team is eliminated, that team’s out. If all the traitors are eliminated, the remaining players get an advantage on the next part of the Exams. If the traitors ever equal or outnumber the honest ninja, the traitors win and get the advantage.

Once the genjutsu descends, the traitors will get to pick their first victim—but first, the whole group must decide who they think one of the traitors is, with _no clues whatsoever_ beyond everyone’s behavior.

Oh, yeah. And Riku’s one of the traitors. Random assignment; he isn’t allowed to tell his team. They could all be traitors; he could be the only one in the room. No one will know how many traitors there are until the first genjutsu, until the traitors will get to see each other for the first time and try to agree on a single target.

“This is stupid,” Tsuru says, for the eighth time. “None of us _knows_, we’re all just guessing and deciding based on who we want to eliminate.”

“You don’t think we can find the guilty consciences of the traitors?” the woman from Cloud—Kaede, she’d introduced herself—says, voice low and amused even though her face stays blank.

The rest of her team isn’t set up for espionage, but they could be a pickup team cobbled together from who’s available rather than crafted by a Kage for a specific purpose. She’s undoubtedly capable of holding her own, but her whole _vibe_ seems sneakier than her teammates.

“I vote we get rid of Mist,” Karin says. Riku would like to say he doesn’t recognize her tone, but he does; that’s her I’m-swallowing-down-irritation voice. With Karin, irritation never stays down for long.

The Mist team, naturally, protests, but Kaede’s eyebrow raises and the Cloud guys both smile fleetingly. Tsuru shoots Riku a raised eyebrow herself.

He hasn’t shared a whole lot about his experience, but _everyone_ knows he was in Sound. She may not realize that he _personally knows_ Karin, but she’ll realize it’s possible.

Mariko leans forward to look at him as well. After a moment, she inclines her head. “It’s up to you.”

As much as Riku doesn’t want to back Karin’s play…it’s a smart idea. Whoever gets past this will have to get through some kind of endurance challenge for the second part, and Mist-nin will have the advantage. Getting rid of them now will keep them out of the way later, when Leaf, Sound, and Cloud will be on more equal footing.

“Sure,” he says, then glances at the red-faced boys. “Nothing personal.”

“The tall one,” Atsui, the one from Cloud with a sword, suggests, and no one else has a preference—besides the Mist genin, of course, who protest _strenuously_ and are ignored—so the proctor beckons to that boy, escorts him out the room.

The door has barely slid shut when Riku feels a heaviness slip over his head. He blinks, raises a hand to push at it, and finds himself alone with the proctor and a pair of girls.

Just not the pair of girls he’s used to. Kaede and Karin don’t look particularly surprised to see one another, although Kaede tips an eyebrow up at _him_, while Karin just smirks.

“Well, so much for _random assignment_,” she says, and Riku doesn’t get it for a second, until he remembers: his two B-rank missions are both technically infiltration missions.

Mist just picked out the person on each team with the most espionage experience and put them together. Lovely. Riku kicks his estimation of the Cloud woman up a notch as well—if she’s here, he’ll have to keep an eye on her.

No one from Mist, though, so they _had_ randomly picked the actual traitor from that team.

“Your task is to select someone to eliminate,” the proctor reminds them. She doesn’t look any more intimidating than a second ago, but Riku squares his shoulders anyway, pulling his weight off the table and into a solid stance.

Riku could really do without the Sound team, but he doubts Karin will agree to that. Before he can even start to consider convincing Kaede, though, she says, “There’s no point in keeping Mist. Without him, all we have to do is eliminate one teammate each.”

Put that way, Riku sets the issue of the Sound team aside for now. “Fine.”

They pick one at random—since none of the Mist-nin introduced themselves, they go with “the one on the left.” The proctor accepts that, and the heaviness comes again. When it leaves, the room is back to normal, just slightly crowded.

“Kenjirou, you have been sabotaged. Leave.”

The Mist-nin looks like he’s about to explode, but his teammate elbows him sharply and his expression curdles, face gone yellowy-pale. He quickly retreats.

Once he’s out of the room, the proctor says: “Your task is to determine the identity of the remaining traitors. Eliminate a suspect.”

Riku glances at his teammates—Tsuru’s eyeing up the Sound team, while Mariko returns his look with a grim one of her own—before surveying the scene.

He’d _really _like to get rid of Karin this round…

“I vote the Sound girl,” Tsuru cuts in, pulling everyone’s attention back to the task at hand. “In the beanie.”

“_What_?” The girl’s voice goes high and squeaky, not a screech but close. “You think _I’m_ a traitor? Are you _stupid_? Or maybe _you’re_ a traitor!”

Tsuru rolls her eyes, then says, to the Cloud team, “You’re the tiebreakers.”

“What about me?” the last Mist-nin standing says. “Aren’t _I_ the tiebreaker?”

“No,” Kaede says simply, and the boy looks miffed before turning a pleading look on the rest of the room. Everyone else roundly ignores him, aside from the Sound girl, who asks, “Why don’t we just get rid of _him_ and then figure out the rest of the traitors?”

Since that seemed to be Kaede’s original game-plan, Riku’s a little shocked to see her eyeing the Sound girl speculatively. Kaede turns to her teammates with a shrug. “We could get rid of Mist later. It isn’t as if he’s a threat, at this point.”

The Sound girl asks, “Can you _really_ trust them? Those traitors could take out your team next turn!”

Noboru and Atsui exchange glances. (Riku’s a little torn—he’d _really _like to get rid of Karin, but the next part would be so much easier with fewer older, experienced competitors. Not to mention the _tournament_ section… But getting rid of Cloud would mean picking off Kaede, and he’d have to side with Karin to do that. He’s not sure he can stomach that.)

Both Cloud-nin seem torn, so Riku throws out, “Konoha has a score to settle with Sound.”

Karin shoots him a dirty look for that, but what’s she gonna do, _deny_ it?

What she tries is, “And _Hatake Riku_ has a score to settle with _Cloud_.”

Whatever effect she was going for fails; the intel Orochimaru shared with her wasn’t something Atsui and Noboru had heard about from their own superiors. They just look confused, before shrugging it off.

It’s Atsui who nods decisively and says, “Yes, eliminate—you never introduced yourselves.”

Rather, _only_ the Cloud team had announced their names, but Riku’s not about to point that out.

The girl doesn’t give her name—instead, she sticks her tongue out at him. The proctor asks, “Are the Leaf and Cloud teams agreed?”

A chorus of _yeahs_ and _yeps_ with a single _yes_ from Mariko, and the Sound girl is summarily ejected from the room. The heaviness descends again.

Karin isn’t glaring at Riku when he glances her way. Instead, she’s watching Kaede, the way she looked at Emi after getting flogged. (Betrayed, Riku thinks, before dismissing it.)

“I think we should get rid of Kimimaro,” she says, and Riku’s jaw drops.

Kaede shoots her an unreadable look. “One of your teammates is already eliminated. If we pick your other one, you could fail the test next round.” She pointedly doesn’t look at Riku. “We should be done with Mist, first.”

Rolling her eyes, Karin looks at Riku. “What do you say? I vote for Kimimaro. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky and the group _will_ vote me out next round.”

Maybe before he went to Sound, he wouldn’t realize she’s manipulating him. Now, though, he knows this song and dance: she’s promising him something he wants (like she dangled the idea of escape) and offering something right now (like the information on Sakura and Sasuke).

Last time, he’d turned it around on her, taking a bunch of Sound’s “recruits” with him. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to do the same this time. (And, a small part of him points out, have to deal with the Cloud team later…)

“Yeah,” he says. “I vote Kimimaro, too.”

Kaede’s eyes narrow on Karin’s victorious smile as the heaviness drops over them all. When they come to again and the proctor sends Kimimaro out, Karin _immediately_ launches her plan.

“I think Kaede’s a traitor.”

This gambit stuns both Kaede and Riku, and Karin presses her advantage ruthlessly. She doesn’t bother speaking to the Cloud team; instead, she’s looking to the last Mist-nin and Riku’s team.

“And we should trust you because…?” Tsuru asks, trailing off with almost a mocking tone of voice. Her eyes cut to Riku and she inclines her head slightly, as if the question was more directed at him than Karin.

“Because the rest of my team’s gone? Because I’m not a threat to your team, at this point.”

“Unless you’re a traitor,” Mariko says. “A traitor’s a threat until the end of the game.”

Karin smiles. “There’s a one in three chance I am, but _your_ team is still whole, and if I’m right, that means _your_ team will have the upper hand, next turn, even if I _am_ a traitor.”

“Which you must be,” Kaede says, “to even try this gambit.”

“I think we should get rid of Kaede,” the Mist-nin says.

Noboru scowls at him. “And _I_ vote the Sound girl is a traitor.”

With two votes against Kaede and three against Karin, it comes down to the Leaf team for a majority.

Tsuru looks like she’s going to leave it to Riku when Mariko butts in. “Unless you two are really against it,” she says, in the tone of the world’s most grudging concession, “I think we should get rid of the Cloud-nin.”

Kaede and Karin both stare at Riku. And on the one hand, if he says _no_, he can be guaranteed not to see Karin again.

On the other hand, does he _really_ want the Cloud-nin to have any sort of advantage, on top of their greater experience?

He’d _really_ like to knock Karin out of the Exams. And without her, he and Kaede can pick off the remaining Mist-nin and get rid of one of each of their own teammates to win the game.

Before he can open his mouth to side with Cloud—inconceivable even a year ago, but that’s ninja politics for you—Karin tugs on a chain around her neck, pulling it out of hiding beneath her shirt and revealing a small pearl.

Riku’s breath catches.

_Kairi’s necklace_.

He hasn’t gone to the Islands since infiltrating Sound. On some level, he knows Kairi would forgive him—but he doesn’t want her to _have_ to. (He already hurt Sora; he’d rather not hurt _both_ his childhood friends, thanks.) He doesn’t want to look at her face when he tells her the only memento she has from her birthplace is gone, lost, stolen because Riku didn’t safeguard it well enough.

Karin unclasps it but keeps the chain in her fist, held tight to her body.

“That’s cheating,” Noboru tries, but the proctor doesn’t spare him a glance. She’s looking only at Riku, and she says, implacably, “Your vote.”

Karin raises her eyebrows.

Riku extends his hand, and Karin smiles, walks over. Atsui tries to stop her, but Tsuru body-checks him—that won’t last, Atsui definitely has the upper body strength to pick Tsuru up and manhandle her out of his way—but it doesn’t need to last, because Karin’s in Riku’s space, grip tight on the chain as it dangles inches above his open palm.

“Kaede,” Riku says, and Karin drops the necklace into Riku’s hand.

///

The game doesn’t end there, but it might as well, with how distracted Riku is for the rest of it. His hand keeps stealing up to tug at the necklace around his neck, to reassure himself it’s _real_.

Karin suggests getting rid of Atsui, and Riku agrees—without Kaede to stop them, they can get rid of _both_ the Mist and Cloud teams, and better their chances in the next round.

Which was stupid, because then Noboru and the Mist-nin, outnumbered and worried, team up to suggest Mariko as a traitor. Mariko, incensed, counters that the Mist-nin is a traitor or a sore loser, and it turns out that, in cases of ties, _both_ people are eliminated.

That must have been Karin’s gamble, because she’s grinning as soon as the proctor makes the announcement. And, of course, once the door shuts behind Mariko and the last Mist boy, the proctor announces the game is over, traitors win.

“The traitors equal the honest ninja. The test ends in the traitor’s favor. Noboru,” she looks directly into his dark eyes, then turns to Tsuru, “Tsuru, as you have not been eliminated, your teams will continue in the test, without any advantage. Leave.”

Wide-eyed and, by his gait, loose-limbed with anxious relief, Noboru wastes no time in escaping. Tsuru pats Riku’s shoulder on her way out, a wry expression on her face. Riku wonders when she figured out he was the traitor for their team. Probably early on.

“Karin. Riku. Both of your teams will advance, and, as you won the challenge, you will receive an advantage at the start of the next part of the Chuunin Exams. Leave.”

They do. The woman’s…attitude or aura or _whatever_ keeps them from talking until they’re out in the hall with a door between them and her, but once that’s in place, Karin turns to Riku with a grin. “See, Riku? We _won_. _And_ we got the advantage, _and_ you got your necklace back.”

“I’m not talking to you,” Riku says. Kairi’s little pearl fits snugly in his clenched fist, the metal of the chain just barely digging into his skin; he tries to reign his temper in, but it isn’t _easy_ with Karin _right there_, making wounded noises and pouting at him like she hadn’t _lied to him for weeks_. “We aren’t _friends_, Karin.”

“I can’t believe _you_ were the traitor,” Mariko cuts in. Her grumpy tone and low-key scowl would be more convincing if she didn’t also slide between Riku and Karin as she speaks, grabbing Riku by a tense forearm and tugging him away. “I can’t believe I didn’t _know_ you were the traitor.”

“Friends or not,” Karin says, loudly, following them, “you should probably know something.”

Riku pauses, mind spinning in a hundred directions. Did Orochimaru put a seal on the necklace? —Wait, he’s an idiot, of _course_ he did, this is all part of a ploy, but why would he care that much about _Riku_? Is he irritated about the jailbreak, still? Riku _had_ liberated a decent number of people; maybe he put a dent in Orochimaru’s forces. Maybe it’s a pride thing.

After all, Orochimaru’s one of the _Sannin_, and Riku’s just. Nobody. For Riku to have escaped, to have taken others with him… Yeah, it’s probably a pride thing.

Now certain he’s holding some time of bomb or trap or delayed-release-brainwashing-seal or _something_, Riku glances over his shoulder. Whatever Karin has to say doesn’t matter, really, except it might give some clue as to what he’s dealing with.

Well. Not _him_; he’ll have to give the necklace to the ANBU at the embassy, he realizes with a sinking feeling in his gut. This may have been useless; if they can’t disengage whatever the trap is, he might not be able to give Kairi her necklace back. (He isn’t about to hand her anything dangerous, though, so he’ll just have to turn it in to ANBU and hope for the best. At least now he can tell her he _tried_ to get it back; that’s better than just _losing_ it.)

“Lord Orochimaru discovered where my family comes from.” Karin grins at him, showing teeth. Her bow is slight, perfunctory, her head not dipping an inch, her eyes not leaving Riku’s. “My proper name is Uzumaki Karin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks. You would not BELIEVE how many times I rewrote this. This, right here, held me up for close to four months BY ITSELF, because I could not for the life of me figure out how I wanted to approach the first part of the Exams. (I actually wrote two VERY different versions of this phase before stalling out. This version, I was at least able to move past to get to Phase 2, so it got to stay in the final draft.)
> 
> Also, it's been so long and I've beaten my head against this so much, I'm super nervous posting it.
> 
> Next update in **two weeks**, on the weekend of **9/21-9/22**.


	3. respite i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between phases 1 and 2; Riku deals with fallout from Karin's revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content notes:** Mentions of canon-typical violence; Riku's usual training methods. (Look, I love Riku, but please no one emulate his training. I'd say it's worse than canon, but uh, ninja!Riku at least OCCASIONALLY has supervision. Not, you know, in this chapter, but sometimes!)

White noise. Riku’s eyes stay locked on Karin’s, trying to process _Uzumaki Karin_ in any kind of useful way. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mariko and Tsuru added their own two cents. He doesn’t hear any of it. Riku’s startled confusion must have been Karin’s goal, because her lips quirk just slightly up. Like him, she doesn’t seem to register anyone else.

Naruto’s an _orphan_. He’s not the only one (Sasuke springs to mind, although Riku wouldn’t be surprised to find out that all the ninja he knows who never mention their parents just don’t _have_ any), but he’s the one Riku’s lived with, the one Riku’s tried to help. Riku never bothered asking anyone about Naruto’s family because, well, why would he?

It could be a lie. It could also be the truth. Wasn’t Orochimaru also from Konoha, originally? Someone would have mentioned it, if he’d left with a little girl, but if he found her later…

Naruto’s already lost _so much_. If Riku could give him something back… Even if it’s just the truth, even if it’s just _knowledge_, wouldn’t Naruto want to know?

Naruto’s an orphan, and here’s someone claiming to be his family. The least Riku can do is find out whether she’s telling the truth.

///

Miss Kurenai is a kind, generous jounin-sensei, because she lets Riku recover before she makes him fill out the person-sized stack of paperwork his actions generated.

She also lets him stew on it for a day (one of three before they’re swept into next phase of the Chuunin Exams) before calling him into what must be an official’s office to “discuss his actions.”

“Actions during the Chuunin Exams aren’t subject to review,” she says. “However, I’m concerned. Given what happened in the last Exams,” when Sound invaded Konoha, “you’ll be under a lot more scrutiny than usual. _Especially_ you, Riku.”

She can’t be cleared to know about the key, so she must be referencing his infiltration of Sound.

“I get it,” he says, and raises a hand to his sternum, where Kairi’s necklace once again rests, tucked just under the collar of his shirt. (He’s done that a lot more since he got it back than he ever did before.)

He hasn’t decided whether he wants to take it to the second part of the exams. He might lose it again; on the other, he had a genuine panicked reaction when he had to hand it over to for an ANBU to check it for traps or seals. It hasn’t left his neck since he got it back from the ANBU.

(And here’s the troubling thing: it came back clean. No traps, no seals, nothing. Riku still isn’t sure what to make of that.)

Miss Kurenai frowns at him, then sighs and shuffles papers into a folder. “All right. Riku, you need to be careful during these exams. I shouldn’t need to tell you that the Sound team is trouble; you can’t trust anything they tell you.”

“I know that.”

“I’m sure you do.” She closes the folder, then leans forward, elbows on the desk, hands steepled in front of her face. “Tell me what you know about genjutsu.”

She’s quizzed him like this before—once in front of her team, where he got to see Kiba’s face go red and then puce as Riku kept talking, and a couple times on the way to Kiri, where Mariko’s face made a similar journey. Tsuru expressed only the barest interest in genjutsu, but Mariko had taken Riku’s homework materials and devoured them, and she had taken to offering corrections and additions in the snottiest tone imaginable on their last day aboard the ship.

(Her foul mood had more to do with how she had to cling to the side of the ship and couldn’t seem to get her seasickness under control at _all _than Riku himself. That _Riku_ was swinging himself into the rigging and doing handstands and pull-ups on the crow’s nest for the whole voyage didn’t endear him to her, though.)

“Genjutsu is the third major ninja discipline,” he says, crisp, textbook. “A ninja uses chakra to mess with the other ninja’s senses through _their _chakra. You can make them not see you, or think you’re somewhere you aren’t; you can also use it to trap them in something like a dream.”

She nods, motions him to go on.

“You need precise chakra control to use it, and a good imagination.”

“Or a good sense of observation.” At Riku’s frown, she smiles, lowering her hands. “Tell me, Riku, have you given much thought to the _henge_ jutsu?”

“Not since I passed the genin test. Why?”

“Hm.” She looks away from him, examining a detailed map of Water Country hanging on the wall. “Why do you think that jutsu isn’t used by all ninja?”

“Because it’s hard.”

That catches her off guard, pulls her attention firmly back to him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “It isn’t hard to use, but it’s hard to use _really well_. Like…” He thinks for a few beats, then says, “It’s the opposite of the advanced jutsu, isn’t it? Like the Mystical Palm Technique,” not that he’s bitter, “or Naruto’s _Rasengan_. The problem with those is getting them to work at all. If you can do that, you’re fine. But something like the _henge_, sure, anyone can use it, but if you don’t know what you’re doing, it’s pointless.”

She smiles at that. “Can you explain what you mean when you say someone won’t ‘know what they’re doing’?”

He shrugs. “My uncle told me I wasn’t doing the _henge_ right because I’d get caught. I wasn’t going to fool anyone who knew the actual person.” Blink, blink. “It’s the same for genjutsu, isn’t it? It’s only as good as the person using it. If they aren’t a good observer…”

“Their genjutsu won’t be very convincing, yes.” She leans back, eyeing him for several long seconds. “There are two ways to use genjutsu. One is what we’re discussing: it relies on your opponent not noticing they’re in a genjutsu at all. If you want to misdirect someone in a fight, send them fighting an imaginary enemy on the other side of the battlefield, or make them not notice your presence at all, that’s the kind you’ll use.

“The other kind of genjutsu stalls an opponent, traps them in a nightmare, tortures them. That frequently becomes a contest of who has more chakra reserves and better control, and even if your opponent is weakened, when they realize they’re in a genjutsu, they can always injure themselves to get out of it.”

“That’s not what I want to learn,” Riku says. (It’s not a kind of jutsu he _can_ learn, really, since entering any kind of chakra contest would be hopeless from the start. But also, he doesn’t _want_ to torture people.)

Kurenai gives him a look like she knows what he’s not saying and isn’t impressed. “Be that as it may, your observational skills need to improve if you want to learn genjutsu _at all_. I want you to keep a journal and write down what you notice.”

Riku stares at her. “Everything?”

She hums, smiling again, this time not nicely. “Well. Maybe start with one memory each day. A person, a building, a conversation. Commit it to memory and record it in writing.”

This is homework. Riku’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t protest, because. Well. As much as it sounds like a punishment for doing something stupid yesterday, it also sounds kind of legitimate. (Also, Sora and Kairi regularly bemoan their own homework when he visits them. In the past, he’s been able to commiserate, but without medical texts to read, all he’s got is genjutsu homework. And his physical routine, of course, but he’ll never be able to convince anyone who knows him that he minds _that_.)

“Can it be anything?”

“Sure.” Her face softens into what might be fondness. “Surprise me.”

“Oh. You’ll be reading it?”

“Of course. I have to check your progress, after all. Doesn’t Maito Gai observe your training, when you learn something new?”

“_Yes_,” Riku says, groaning at the memory. “He makes me repeat it—” at the last second, Riku catches the grin on her face, realizes what he’s about to admit to, and changes tack awkwardly, “—uh, every time he teaches me something.”

She could ask how many times Gai makes Riku repeat new moves, and Riku would give her an honest answer. There’s a moment where they both acknowledge that she knows she could ask that, and then she doesn’t.

Instead, she just says, “Well, there you go. Unless you want to write your journal entry on filling out paperwork, I would suggest you get back to that, and finish up quickly. You’re dismissed.”

Riku bows, a lot more competent at the motion after almost a year of practice in Konoha, and body-flickers back to his room, where his desk is still piled high even though he left a shadow clone behind to keep working.

With two sets of hands, he finishes in the early evening. He catches the sunset on the roof of the embassy, perched on the moss-covered concrete edge like it’s the paopu tree back home. The oranges and reds in the sky catch on engravings in the tiny mosaic tiles that make up a whirlpool pattern inlaid in the roof’s center. The engravings are old, too worn for Riku to read, but he runs his fingers over them and takes a moment to pray to Leviathan for good weather and good fortune.

Riku isn’t what anyone would call spiritual, let alone religious, but here, next to an unfamiliar ocean, at the start of a journey that he dearly wants to return from safely, he figures it can’t hurt. Either the ocean god of a faraway world will hear the prayer or he won’t, but Riku thinks he will.

Leviathan, the serpent whose scales are all the world’s oceans, could easily have stretched to other worlds since the dawn of the Destiny Islands.

After that, he deploys a clone to write down the memory and, in the embassy’s single, large training room, completes his evening exercises—more boring here, without Tenten to supervise the more complicated _kata_ to be sure he’s doing everything correctly and at speed. For good measure, he’s added in more cardio since escaping from Sound.

One of these days, he’s going to figure out how to rig some nonlethal traps to run through that meet with Gai’s approval, and then he’s going to become the best sprinter Konoha’s ever had. It’s not just about how many times in a row he can use the body flicker jutsu; it’s about how quickly he can turn, dodge, duck, jump.

Once Riku has warmed up and the clone in his room disperses, done with the homework, Riku checks his chakra reserves and summons another shadow clone, this time to spar against.

Staff training is nothing like play-fighting with Sora.

When Riku told Tenten he was applying for the Chuunin Exams, Tenten’s response had been an evil grin and a step up in their training. “If you embarrass me, I _will_ find out, and you _will_ regret it,” she’d said, before Gai turned a disapproving look on her and she’d taken it back.

The words still hang over Riku’s head. She meant them when she said them, and he has no doubt that she’ll find a way to make them true without making Gai disown her.

After that, Riku’s training involved practicing against her; he’d never suggested a clone, even though she’d probably have gone for it, because after he got back from Sound, his single available clone was stuck on a journey of scientific inquiry into seals.

Now, though, he doesn’t have the same problem, and he needs a partner for this. Practicing his form is fine, but the best way to be sure he’s positioning his fingers correctly is to cross staffs with someone else.

If his fingers get smacked, they’re clearly in the wrong place. Or else he needs to learn how to move them quicker. Tenten taught him the basics, then moved him into stringing those basics into more complicated moves.

She’d been honest with him, too: he isn’t combat-ready with the staff. His hand-to-hand, for all that he’s less comfortable with it, is a bit better (thanks to Gai’s drilling), and his knife skills are good enough that he can keep an equally inexperienced opponent at bay before they get close enough to figure out just how bad his melee skills are.

His body-flickering, while not useful as an offense, is a handy defensive maneuver. Against other genin, he should be able to get away, and as long as he doesn’t have to fight back-to-back, he shouldn’t need to worry about chakra exhaustion.

And if he _does_ have back-to-back fights, well… He’ll do what he can.

For now, the goal is to work out the major problems in his defense. The staff’s what he has, and even Tenten agreed that he ought to bring _something_ a little more impressive than the knives and fists everyone’s expected to bring, for all her worry and caution about him using the staff. If he can figure out how he’s holding it wrong _now_, he’ll walk away with sore, bruised fingers.

If he waits until he faces one of the genin with bladed weapons, he might not keep all his fingers.

A lot of his trouble comes when he switches positions; according to Tenten, that’s his own stupid fault, since he’s the idiot who _started_ with a sword, and without any formal training at that. A sword, you don’t have to worry so much about where your hand’s at, because one hand stays on the hilt and the other one’s there to guard, or mess with your opponent.

Or, Tenten’s implied a couple of times, to do other things, but then she clams up and refuses to talk until he’s mastered the staff. (At his rate, he’ll do that around when he masters ninjutsu and brain surgery, but saying that just launches a lecture from Gai on _the springtime of youth_ and not giving up, so Riku’s stopped protesting and just accepts that no one except his magic key and his friends back home understand how _right_ he feels, holding something sharp and pointy.)

Anyway, if he can work out how he’s supposed to move from a guard stance to a striking stance without losing fingers, he’ll be golden. And if he can figure that out _tonight_, he’ll be thrilled, although that looks less and less likely each time he and his clone close.

He has to summon it back three times, only once on purpose. Lashing out at a shadow clone in frustration is a great way to break that habit. _Ow_.

It’s forty, maybe fifty minutes since he started when he hears the door open.

Despite doing nothing wrong, Riku and his clone freeze. He’s never been told _not_ to use shadow clones, but, well. He’s never asked if he _should_. Given the way most people freak out about his small chakra reserves and his reliance on body-flickering to not waste time _walking_ places, he figures Gai and Kakashi and Anzu would all kind of frown on his use of clones.

Miss Honda hadn’t told him not to, but then, she hadn’t exactly given him permission, had she?

(Given that Naruto taught him the jutsu without really telling everyone, and then helped Riku convince all the medic-nin that Riku’s fainting spell was _Rasengan_-inspired, uh. Riku’s pretty sure he’s going to get in trouble just for knowing the jutsu one of these days, never mind the consequences for how often he uses it. He isn’t about to _stop_ using such a handy tool, though.)

Thankfully, it isn’t Miss Kurenai (_bad news_) or Mariko (definitely a snitch) who walk in. Tsuru pauses in the doorway, sweeping her gaze from Riku to his clone and back. Then her eyes narrow and she marches over.

Uh-oh.

Riku takes a step back, keeping his staff in a casual hold that hopefully doesn’t scream “I’m defensive, ask me some pointed questions!” His fingers twinge a little, adrenaline spiking despite his efforts to control his breathing and slow his heart rate down.

Medic-nin, even genin apprentices, are trained to notice hyperventilating and other signs of panic. He and Tsuru haven’t been apprentices long enough to do their rotation with the Intelligence division, but they’ve gotten the basics they need to identify an incipient panic attack.

(Mariko’s done hers, which is why Intel keeps pestering Miss Honda to let them steal her. The first time Riku showed up for his shift to find a member from Intel in Miss Honda’s office, he’d expected Mariko to be thrilled about the offer. Instead, she’d looked queasy, and once they left, she’d begged Miss Honda to keep turning them down. Riku’s never seen her that upset, before or since. They don’t talk about it, but Riku wonders.)

Tsuru’s eyebrow raises as she halts a good arms-length away from him. (Grabbing distance, if she lunges. Not that she has any reason to.) She turns her head to meet the clone’s eyes and says, “Okay, playtime’s over.”

The clone, not an idiot, dismisses himself. Then Riku has Tsuru’s full attention.

She eyes him up and down for an awkwardly long amount of time, close to a full minute. He almost interrupts her silence a few times, but decides against it, each time thinking surely she’ll be finished soon.

Finally, she says, “I have a couple questions, and if you don’t answer, I’m going straight to Miss Kurenai.”

Riku’s pretense of a casual air evaporates into tension. “Alright,” he says, tone more guarded than it usually gets with Tsuru. Sometimes she wants to talk about embarrassing things, and she likes to tease him, but this sounds _serious_. He has the feeling he knows what it’s about, too.

“Uzumaki. Your whole attitude changed when you heard her name, and she _knew_ you’d react like that. Why?”

Terrific. Riku’s not good at subtlety; you’d think he’d be better after months of ninja training, but you’d be wrong. He can only somewhat lie without giving himself away, and he strongly suspects that Tsuru is one among many who can see through even that.

In short, Riku has no chance here; it’s the truth or nothing. He sighs, shoulders slumping. “Why’s that matter?” Her face goes stubborn, so he quickly adds, “I told Miss Kurenai and the ANBU about it. It’s not like I’m keeping secrets.” He sounds defensive even to himself.

Tsuru glares. “I don’t care about that. You’re keeping secrets from _me_. We’re a team. We’re _friends_.”

And that’s the crux of it. Riku and Mariko are more rivals than teammates, really, but Tsuru’s acted like his self-appointed big sister since they started working together at the hospital.

She’s one of the few people he’s talked about Sora and Kairi with, one of the only ninja who knows how often he visits the Islands and who he sees while he’s there. He didn’t even tell _Ino_ about his friends, really, and they’d been dating.

“We are,” he says, and means it. Another sigh, and then he steels himself. “One of my uncle’s students is named Uzumaki.”

“Oh.”

“He told me he was an orphan.”

“_Oh_.”

“Yeah.” Riku eyes her, but she seems more relaxed with a tangible answer. “I don’t know if Sound is just…making things up, or if she’s really related, but I want to find out.”

“Well, of course you do.” And now Tsuru looks stubborn again, fists clenching before she relaxes them. “That makes sense. What _doesn’t_ make sense is you bottling it up. This is what friends are _for_, you idiot.”

She says it with fondness, but Riku makes a face at it anyway. He’s heard Naruto and Sasuke’s “nicknames” for one another, the way Sakura and Ino traded insults. None of that is anything he wants.

“It’s not your problem.” At her fierce look, Riku speeds up, certain that she can shout over him if she wants to, “No, listen to me. We’re here to get promoted, and you _need_ that before Anzu will say yes, right?” Now Tsuru just looks mutinous, not on the verge of biting his head off. His fist clenches. “This is something _I_ need. Not for our team. You didn’t even _meet_ Naruto. I’m not about to ask—”

“That’s the point,” Tsuru says, quiet but just as heated. “You don’t _have_ to ask, Riku. He’s a friend of yours?” He nods, tongue thick. “Then that’s that. We’ll figure this thing out. Okay? Together. As _friends_. Got that?”

“Got it.”

“Good.” Her smile is infectious, and Riku returns it.

He’s still smiling, and thus caught off-guard, when she slings an arm over his shoulders and reels him in. “_Great_. Now let me make sure you haven’t mangled your hands, and then you’re going to tell me all about your little solid clone trick, hm?”

Riku tries to escape, of course, but he doesn’t have the chakra for a substitution jutsu, and Tsuru has a stranglehold on his neck.

“C’mon,” she says, tone sugary-sweet, smiling widely, “I’ve got supplies in my room.”

///

Of course, he tells her everything. Intel may want Mariko, but Mariko isn’t good at _people_ the way Tsuru is. (Also, Tsuru has younger siblings; this can’t be the first time she’s fixed someone’s purpling knuckles while staring them down until they gave in and told her what she wanted to know.)

She makes him show her the jutsu, and when she realizes it cuts her chakra in half, she makes him promise not to use it more than once a day. Riku hems and haws, but Tsuru is firm, and finally, he gives in.

It’s that or let her go to Miss Kurenai, and then he might not be able to use shadow clones at _all_. Besides, what he promises is that he’ll only use it once a day for training, and when Tsuru’s eyes go narrow and calculating, he points out that they’re being _tested_. He might have to use it more than once!

“And I might have to let Miss Kurenai know,” she threatens back, but she accepts his wording, so that’s settled. (Research and homework aren’t training, not really; he doesn’t point that loophole out to her.)

She uses the smelliest salve for bruises she has, and wraps his fingers with unnecessary slowness and care, but whatever. Riku can’t heal them until the second part of the Exams because she’s seen them, but once the Exams are back on, Riku has a pair of fingerless gloves that ought to hide the lack of damage.

(They’re black and extend down his forearms, with matte-black metal plating and _seals_. Riku picked them out on the suspicion that he might need to hide his magically disappearing bruises from his teammates, but since then, he’s fallen in love. No more small gloves for him.)

With Riku sufficiently punished—he’ll be able to smell that concoction on his hands for _days_ and they both know it—and his hands disabled (for now), he and Tsuru put their heads together on the Uzumaki Problem and come up with the library.

The embassy library isn’t that big, more a glorified stockroom than anything else, but it _does_ house any scrolls or texts that might be of interest to Konoha nin visiting Kirigakure. Plus, there isn’t an eagle-eyed librarian waiting to snap the good books away from the insufficiently-classified.

That _should_ mean that all the books are boring or otherwise unclassified, but they both decide there’s enough of a chance that something interesting has slipped through to justify a trip.

///

A lot of what Riku and Tsuru find is just boring reference text after boring reference text. Lots of old treaties, which both of them turn their noses up at; some local maps (nothing too recent, but they both take a good half an hour to commit what they can to memory, just in case); trade documents, immigration records.

“Oh, hey,” Riku says, freezing in the middle of idly flipping through one of those last. His reading is still approximately entry Academy level, but names are complicated and fiddly, so he’s always had to spend extra time memorizing them. One page lists うずまきクシナ, which—well, he recognizes the first part of that, anyway.

Tsuru drops the scrolls she has, letting them clatter and roll on the tile floor as she comes over and leans into him. He’s just barely too short for her to hook her chin into his shoulder (a fact which she brings up every time someone comments on _how tall Riku’s getting_ around her).

They read it together, so Riku’s still puzzling out 第二次忍界大戦 when Tsuru says, “Oh, a Second War refugee,” like that’s just _a thing_.

(In his defense, when Sakura was drilling Riku on history, she’d never made him learn the characters for the names, not when cramming all the dates and battles and politics had taken the bulk of their time.)

(Anyway, he knows that 二 is two and 忍 is shinobi; it’s the whole rest of it that’s given him a headache. He would have figured it out eventually even without Tsuru’s help. Probably.)

“Was that common?”

She makes a face. “How should I know? All wars have refugees.” She taps the record in front of him. “Anyway, look, this is an old _koseki _file. See, her parents are listed as deceased—that’s why she’s got her own, this was probably just a temporary record so she could come to our Academy.” Then Tsuru frowns. “I wonder why it’s here, though? Why wouldn’t it be in Konoha?”

Given what Riku’s seen of Konoha’s attitude toward people named _Uzumaki_, he’s quietly grateful. Some random librarian might have “lost” it after one of Naruto’s more outrageous childhood pranks, and then Riku wouldn’t have the name _Kushina_ to investigate.

“Maybe the permanent file’s there,” he says. “I’ll check it out when we get home.”

“Good idea.” Tsuru pulls away from him, scooping up her fallen scrolls with a foot maneuver that would have Tidus and the Konoha librarians both in tears if they could see it. “Anything else interesting in there?”

Riku flips to the record before and the record after, but there’s no one else listed as an Uzumaki. He frowns, going back to Kushina and squinting at it. “Hey, you said this was temporary? Are there any dates?”

“Besides the Second Great Blah Blah Blah? Nope. Doesn’t even list _when_ in the war she caught Konoha’s attention. That was like…twenty-five years ago? Something like that.” A wobbly handwave punctuates Tsuru’s lack of certainty. “Don’t quote me on when the wars started and stopped, okay, I got through the genin test on math and knife skills.”

Twenty-five years ago sounds about right to Riku and would put Kushina at…he squints at the page again, then holds it out for Tsuru.

“How old was she when this was written?”

Tsuru comes back over (this time shoving the scrolls onto a shelf haphazardly), grumbling about remedial reading classes. She snatches the book of records from Riku and scans the page with an air of impatience.

Then she goes back to the top and rereads it.

“Okay, this is weird,” she says finally. “This girl is definitely registered as a Second War refugee—that’s this bit here,” and she points to the section with the name of that war listed in a very tiny box. “But for citizenship, she’s listed as _Konoha_,” Tsuru points to a different box, and Riku can pick out his own village’s name now, “and she’s also listed as an Academy student.” Tsuru blinks, and when Riku doesn’t share her consternation, she explains: “We only _let_ Konoha citizens into the Academy, but she can’t be a refugee _and_ a Konoha citizen.”

“Why not?”

“Because of what a refugee _is_. It’s someone who lost their home to a war, right? So, we take them in, because they’re our allies or we feel bad for them. _Then_ they can be Konoha citizens and Academy students and so on. But this record is out of order—and that _still_ doesn’t explain why it exists at all.”

There’s a simple solution that Riku can see, but Tsuru stares at the record like it’s personally trying to leave Tsuru’s assigned hallway against medical advice. Tsuru handles that slightly better than Riku or Mariko ever manage, because “biting sarcasm” is better, socially, than “sullen glaring” and “shouting.”

If something happened to the Islands, wouldn’t that make Riku a refugee? Even though he’s a genin, and therefore (apparently—this is news to him, although it makes enough sense that he’s not about to admit that he’s never questioned it before) a Konoha citizen? No matter how much he’s enjoyed not being trapped by an endless expanse and an uncatchable horizon, part of him will always love the Islands best, just because he grew up there. His mom and his best friends live there. It isn’t quite _home_ anymore, but it isn’t…_not_ home.

That doesn’t even make sense. He can’t string the thought into words, so he isn’t about to try to lay it out for Tsuru. She’d just laugh, or scoff, or ask awkward questions.

Maybe this Kushina was like him, though, part of Konoha and also part of somewhere else. And then the war, and her _somewhere else_ was destroyed, and this record is the only thing left tying her back to where she came from.

Riku should feel bad about tearing the page out of the book. The thing looks hand-bound, as if someone spent hours collecting these documents and stitching them together. He keeps it neat, a straight rip that leaves only a frayed edge behind in the book.

Tsuru’s eyebrows are already up when he offers it to her. “For safekeeping,” he says, and she takes it.

ANBU are rumored to be thorough, but they don’t have any reason to search Tsuru’s things. They don’t have any reason to search _Riku’s_, either, and anyway, it’s some old record about some woman. (If she were still alive, she must be a bit older than Riku’s mom. Naruto’s an orphan, though, and the only Uzumaki in the village.)

Still, Riku’s lost one keepsake already and isn’t keen to lose what might be a record of Naruto’s mom. He can’t imagine Naruto has many things from his parents; if the kid did, Riku would have tripped over them by now. Everything in that apartment is something Naruto bought or was given (or, increasingly, that _Riku_ has bought or been given). It’s very possible that Naruto has never heard of _Uzumaki Kushina_ before.

“It’s getting late,” Tsuru says. There are no windows here, nestled in the embassy where enemy nin can’t penetrate so easily, but Tsuru has a good internal clock, especially when it comes to meals. “Let’s get something to eat and call it a day, okay?” And then, when Riku’s just starting to say _sure_, she adds, “You’re buying, since this is all for your friend.”

Riku’s eyes narrow. “If I’m buying, then I’m picking what we eat.”

“Fine, fine, as long as it’s somewhere out in town.”

///

Along the way, Tsuru fills Riku in on what _koseki_ are, since Riku _has_ one and no one bothered to tell him.

“Kids don’t fill out their own anyway,” she says with a shrug. “The clan or family head handles that, unless you branch off and start your own family. Which, I mean, we’ve talked about that before.”

Riku nods. “I don’t care about any of that. Would mine be like Kushina’s?”

“Hm, a little? I’ve only seen a couple, when my dad filled out the twins’, and I don’t know whether you being in a clan would make a difference.”

“Twins?”

Tsuru shrugs. “My little sister and brother. Sora and Sōma.” She grins at him. “Sora’s the girl.”

Back on the Islands, Sora is a lot more common for boys than girls; of course, in town, there was only _his_ Sora, but sometimes there were sailors, travelers, people passing through. Schools did trips to other schools periodically, and Riku’s met a couple of other boys named Sora, but never a girl.

“It’s a good name,” he says, because it is, and then, “I don’t think you’ve told me your siblings were twins.”

“Well, not all of them are.” At Riku’s furrowed brows, she grins wider. “I have three older sisters, too.”

“Wait, _what_?” Riku tries to imagine sharing space with his mom _and_ five other kids—one of them _Tsuru_—and feels his brain short out. He and Naruto got along okay and that was _pushing it_. “No wonder you became a ninja.”

“Yeah.” Her grin fades, but there’s still an edge of humor in her voice. “Had to get off the farm somehow. And being a ninja’s respectable enough that they couldn’t really complain.”

Riku’s just not gonna process _Tsuru_ and _farm_. He just isn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat. “Anyway, you were telling me about _koseki_.”

“Oh, right! The whole reason I brought it up is that you’re a clan heir; you can go to the Records division and request a copy of most people’s _koseki_.”

“You’re joking.” She doesn’t _sound_ like she’s joking, but—Kushina’s looked _detailed_. Why would they just hand that out to some thirteen-year-old? Also: “Even if I could do that, it’s not like I can read it.”

Tsuru rolls her eyes. “No, but you can take it home. Like I said, you’re a _clan heir_.”

“Why does _that_ matter?” Usually, with Tsuru, it doesn’t.

“Be_cause_, clans get all sorts of privileges, and the idea is, as the heir, you can talk to your uncle about who you want to marry. The _koseki_’s part of that. Can’t go off marrying someone with a bad record, after all!”

“If you say so.” Riku leaves it alone, even though five different ideas are all clamoring to get out of his mouth. Such as: _would they really just hand me Naruto’s file because I asked for it?_ And: _I’m _thirteen_, is it _normal_ to think about marriage at _thirteen_?_ And: _why would clans need to worry about that more than anybody else?_ And: _does that mean other people can look at _my_ record?_ And: _what does my record even _look_ like_?

Kakashi would show him, if he asked, if he caught his uncle in between his weeks-long trips out of the village. Kakashi might even stick around to explain the whole thing to him—or at least arrange for Iruka or Gai or someone else to explain it, someone his uncle trusts with that sort of thing. It’s how Kakashi shows he cares.

If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t bother.

Tsuru subsides after that, getting the impression that Riku’s more than done talking about records and marriage and all that. (If it weren’t a favor for Naruto, he’d have given up long before it hit this point; he could’ve spent his afternoon practicing jutsu or more staff-work or scoping out Mist’s hospital and training grounds.) The two of them quietly traipse through the village, which is wetter and duller and foggier than Konoha. It smells like home, though, and Riku takes deep breaths, smiling without meaning to and taking the lead.

On the Islands, Riku was the oldest of all his friends, which made him the leader. Every adventure was up to him to find or create, and in return, his every whim was met enthusiastically. No tree was too tall for Sora to refuse following him up, no storm was too violent to send Kairi home. No dive too deep to scare off Tidus, no sea too calm for Selphie to give up, no summer day too hot for Wakka to spend running around on the beach.

Riku hasn’t been home in months. He couldn’t go—not before he got Kairi’s necklace back. He reaches for it, fist clenching around it through his shirt. Now, he can see them all again without feeling like a failure, a fraud.

The only thing she has left of her home. Hurting Sora was worse, of course, and Riku knows, down to his bones, that Kairi would forgive him.

(The last time he was on the Islands, he taught both of them some basic jutsu, but next time, he’s going to teach both of them his weird healing whatever, the one Tsunade made him swear not to show anyone. But Sora and Kairi don’t _count_, obviously, and anyway, it can heal _broken bones_.

If Sora can learn that, he’ll never be in danger of a broken arm again, and Riku can lose one of his more long-lived nightmares.)

Since Riku’s in the lead _and_ zoning out thinking about the Islands, Tsuru really only has herself to blame when they wind up in what seems to be a fish market, late enough in the day that a lot of the sellers have packed up. A handful of seafood stalls dominate both in terms of noise (chatter from customers and calls from the sellers) and scents (saltwater fish, grilled fish, baked fish, fried fish, and Riku would probably notice any of those if he was _dead_, let alone through the slim barrier of the scarf he threw on before they left the embassy).

Tsuru turns a long-suffering look on him. “You are _so predictable_. Ugh. Fine, I guess we can eat here. The things I put up with…”

Riku, superfluous to this conversation, lets her choose which stall they go into.

Sushi hand-rolls, it turns out, are even _more_ delicious with fish fresh from the ocean. He hasn’t had eel in over a year—it’s a treat back home, and not something he’s ever seen in Konoha. He’s never had swordfish, but he likes it.

The chef eyes them with skepticism when they sit down, but Riku pays upfront, so the man shrugs and makes the first roll. By the third, he’s no longer skeptical, although he does look a little shocked.

Part of Riku wants to come back here _every day_ until he has to leave. Another part of him wants to see what _other_ seafood he can find in Kiri. (The third part of him is his wallet, and the fourth is his training regimen, neither huge fans of this new development.)

“Don’t see many Leaf-nin eat eel like that,” the man says, after Riku’s finished his third and final roll.

Riku makes a face. “You can’t _get_ eel like that in Konoha.”

The man hums thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t stay fresh, that far out,” he agrees. “What do you get there, freshwater fish?”

Tsuru kicks Riku, very gently, subtly. The locations of ninja villages are _technically_ classified secrets. Theoretically, they can move or hide or otherwise defend themselves. (Wouldn’t that have been nice, when Konoha was invaded?) Riku neither confirms nor denies Konoha’s access to freshwater fish, instead thanking the chef for the meal and making his exit.

Straight into a wall that hadn’t been there before.

Riku steps back, blinking, and registers the uniform first, then the face. His hand falls to his weapons-pouch, slipping in and taking hold of a dagger. He doesn’t pull it out—that would be too much, in a foreign village, and anyway, Tsuru’s at his elbow with her own hand wrapped around his wrist.

Orochimaru’s enforcer looks down at them, not even glancing at where Riku’s hand is, making no move to reach for any weapons of his own. Then again, he didn’t need any when he broke Riku’s arm, did he?

“Hatake Riku,” he says, and…bows? A greeting bow, shallow and quickly over. Riku blinks at him, thrown. Tsuru sniffs. “Lord Orochimaru was pleased to hear you were competing in the Chuunin Exams.”

Riku’s eyes narrow. Tsuru’s grip tightens, and he makes the conscious effort to breathe. “Because of Kimimaro?” That’s the only guess that makes sense; Riku enabled tons of Orochimaru’s prisoners to escape—of course the Otokage would notice that. But if Orochimaru is _happy_ Riku’s here, that can’t be why. “Your medics can’t be that good if you need Leaf-nin to step in all the time.”

That strikes a nerve, and Riku jerks back at the flash of anger in the man’s expression, breath instantly panic-quick. Tsuru moves her hand up to his elbow, anchoring rather than restraining, feet braced to steady him. It helps.

The man smiles, then, appeased. Ugh. “Lord Orochimaru is always pleased to see young ninja develop their skills and advance.” A pause. “Lord Orochimaru is very interested in observing the key to your success in person. He wishes you luck in the coming trials.”

With that, the man bows his head and walks off, leaving Riku reeling for the second time in as many days, this time in the middle of the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weekend isn't technically over until I go to bed, right? Right?
> 
> Anyway, I'd say I'm sorry to end two chapters like this, but I'm really not. :) Next up: the chapter that inspired three rewrites! We're going to Phase 2 of the Chuunin Exams in the next update, which will be posted the weekend of **October 5-6**.


	4. spinning round, heading for a target of earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phase 2 of the Chuunin Exams begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title for this chapter, and what inspired the title for the fic as a whole, from the poem "The Tailspin" by Edward Field. The first two stanzas:
> 
> Going into a tailspin  
in those days meant curtains.  
No matter how hard you pulled back on the stick  
the nose of the plane wouldn't come up.
> 
> Spinning round, heading for a target of earth,  
the whine of death in the wing struts,  
instinct made you try to pull out of it that way, by force,  
and for years aviators spiraled down and crashed.
> 
> **Content notes:** canon-typical injury and Riku being a good medical student!

“I hate you,” Tsuru groans. She might be addressing the stack of paperwork in front of her, but she’s not.

No, Tsuru’s hatred right now is reserved for Riku. To be fair, he’s annoyed with himself, too—not as much as he’s annoyed with Sound, though.

Did Orochimaru order all his followers to get Riku in as much trouble as they could? He used to be an ANBU in Konoha, surely he _knows_ that all these forms exist and have to be filled out when some suspicious, just-barely-not-an-enemy nin drops cryptic remarks in the middle of a public market in a foreign village.

This could be his revenge for Riku’s successful jailbreak. If so, bravo, mission accomplished: Riku wants nothing to do with Sound ever again, and any infiltration missions from here on out are _somebody else__’s problem_, thank you very much.

(Even worse, no one at the embassy so much as blinked oddly at Riku’s report of the Sound-nin’s words, and Riku’s been second-guessing himself ever since. Now, on the last morning before the Chuunin Exams resume, he’s mostly convinced himself it was a fluke, a random coincidence. _The key to your success_ is just a normal phrase that people use, it doesn’t _have_ to be deep. It doesn’t _have_ to be a coded message to let Riku know that Orochimaru _knows_.

It doesn’t _have_ to be, but it _might_ be, and Riku barely slept last night for thinking about it. When he did, his nightmares were formless, anxious things, smoke slipping through his fingers, intangible and choking.)

Still, Miss Kurenai eventually runs out of forms for Tsuru and Riku to fill out. She also runs out of judgmental eyebrows to level at them when they both sheepishly admit they haven’t done any of her homework assignments. They’re sent to their rooms like naughty children, and only emerge on their last afternoon of freedom with their journaling complete and their stomachs empty.

Mariko glowers at them all through dinner, but whether that’s for them leaving her out, not doing their observation assignments, getting in trouble, or some other, strange thing, only she knows. Her look promises that anyone who tries to ask will earn themselves a bloody stump—or, given her specialty, an extended stay in Mist’s poison ward.

Tsuru and Riku both know better. They leave her alone.

///

The morning of the second phase of their exams starts damp, cold, and miserable. It gets worse from there. The Konoha-nin, more accustomed to a polite climate, trudge along to a training ground just outside the village.

Close to twenty teams of genin makes for a sizable crowd, and Riku, Tsuru, and Mariko do their best not to attract attention. They get it anyway.

People twice Riku’s age whisper, loudly, about the sole Konoha team. The teams from Hidden Rock sound especially disgruntled, since the Konoha team’s arrival prompted the Mizukage to start the Exams. The three remaining Rock teams are the smallest minority after Leaf and Sound, with Mist clocking in at a whopping eight home teams and Cloud pushing a respectable five through.

The Rock teams are overtly unfriendly, but the rest aren’t welcoming, either.

“If we need people to like us,” Tsuru mumbles, “we’re screwed.”

Mariko sniffs. “We don’t. The second part is mostly an endurance and teamwork challenge. The only people we need for _that_ are each other.” And then she goes red. Whatever put her in a foul mood last night may be gone, but she is still Mariko.

Laughing, Riku says, “We like you too, Mariko,” and ducks away from her smack.

Further banter is cut off by the arrival of the Mist proctors. There are congratulations—a little more heavily slanted toward the eight Mist teams—followed by some blather about the dangers of the test, blah blah blah, are you sure you want to risk life and limb for this?

No one even twitches in the direction of walking away, and they move on.

The Mist-nin proctor is a tall man, with strange earrings and an eye-patch. And blue hair. He surveys the group like they’ve each, personally, disappointed him, and then he sighs and launches into an explanation.

“The purpose of this test will be to demonstrate your survival skills and your ability to depend on your teammates,” he tells them all. “Each team will be separated, each of you given a token. Then you will be taken to one of three starting points.”

Three Mist chuunin hold signs labeled A, B, and C. They stand about five feet apart from one another.

“Those of your placed at Point A will need to make your way to Point B,” the proctor says, while Chuunin A very, very slowly shuffles over to Chuunin B. “When you have reached Point B, you will deliver your token to your teammate. You may report to the finish line or stay to sabotage your opponents.

“Meanwhile, genin at Point B will carry both tokens to Point C.” Again, the slow, awkward shuffle. “And those of you at Point C will travel to the finish line with all three tokens to pass to the final stage of the Chuunin Exams.”

A pause. Are they even allowed to ask questions? Riku has _several_, but the proctor guy is intimidating, with his severe expression and his scars.

A braver genin puts her hand up. The proctor ignores her. Instead, he says, loudly, “You are allowed to interfere with your competitors throughout this stage.”

Ah. That’s one of Riku’s questions.

“You will be randomly assigned one of the three points,” the proctor adds, answering another one.

His last question, _what does each leg of this race look like_, must be for them to find out.

“A _relay race_?” Mariko says, a little loud in her incredulity. “They’re making us do a _relay race_?”

Maybe the proctor hears her—he certainly swivels his head in their direction, although that could just be coincidence—because his next words are, “In this race, you cannot rely on your teammates to carry you. Deadweight will be eliminated. If your teammate does not take your token across the finish line, you will not advance to the next stage.” Another pause, shorter, and he clarifies, “If anyone other than your teammate takes your token across the finish line, you will not advance.”

That means stealing tokens is only good for the last person; if whoever’s at Point B messes up, they _and_ their teammate from Point A are out. Same if the last person can’t make it. They won’t be able to support one another during the race, so they’ll have to just hope that whoever’s assigned to the last section is the strongest, fastest teammate.

Although a strong, fast ninja at Point A might make it to Point B faster, avoiding a lot of the inevitable battles and sabotages for not only themselves, but potentially also their teammates…

Plus, if whoever goes to Point B or C is just in it for themselves, they can ditch their starting point and head straight to the next one, banking on stealing someone else’s token. Far from Mariko’s assertion, this challenge seems designed _against_ teamwork.

It’s still a survival challenge, though, and Riku isn’t too worried; he might not be Mariko’s favorite person, and Tsuru might still be annoyed over all the paperwork he landed her with, but teamwork is Konoha’s _thing_. They’re in this together. Either they’ll all pass, or they’ll all fail.

All he needs to do is get through his leg of the race and trust them with theirs.

///

They draw lots; Tsuru gets Section A, Mariko gets Section C. It is what it is. Riku isn’t thrilled, but at least this way, he and Karin will be in different sections: he spots her pulling the Section A lot for her team. If Sound decides to poke at Riku or issue any more weird proclamations or deals or whatever, it’ll come from either Kimimaro or New Girl, and he can deal with either of them a lot easier than Karin.

And with Tsuru in charge of the first leg, he can hopefully count on her _not_ pausing to interrogate Karin about the Uzumaki clan or what happened in Sound. If they all make it through, she’ll no doubt find time, but for now, it’s one worry eased.

Riku’s assignment is half-submerged; from what he can see, his run will be a stretch of tidal islands, vanishing islands, and beaches interspersed with jagged rocks and half-sunk ships.

In short, this would be ten-year-old Riku’s _dream course_, and he’s not about to lose to a bunch of mainlanders who curl their lips at the smell of sea air and balance precariously atop the surf with chakra coating their feet.

His advantage for winning the first phase turns out to be a map—barely topographical and it cuts off at the edges of the other sections, but serviceable. A few others have maps, too, so Riku does his best to commit a few routes to memory and then tucks it away. He also tucks away his token, a small wooden chit about two inches long, painted bright green and with a hole at the top for the leather cord strung through it. They all have to wear them, but they get to pick where. Riku’s tied the cord around his thigh and tucked the chit in place behind the holster there, where it’s neither visible nor easily accessible.

(Good thing he opted to leave Kairi’s necklace at the embassy, tucked into his luggage where it’s nice and safe. If he lost it in the ocean, Kairi would _murder him_. Without it, his neck feels bare, and he catches himself reaching for it more than he’s ever been consciously aware of that action before, but it’s a small price to pay to ensure the necklace’s safety.)

If Tsuru shows up at high tide, Riku will body-flicker over all the water. He’s practiced water-walking on the ocean before and it isn’t anything like a lake or river. They’re too close to shore, here; if a wave builds up, it won’t care about what chakra he has on his feet. It’ll crash over him and send him straight to the bottom without remorse.

The Mist-nin seem to know that; they’re the only ones who bother watching the tides, uneasiness in their faces. But Cloud and Rock? The Sound girl whose name Riku still doesn’t know? They just look bored, a little irritated to be stuck with the worst leg.

Whoever’s in the first section finishes first, at least, but the last section is the only one that matters. If Riku could pick, he’d pick the last leg for himself, too—it’s a lot of pressure, but he’s capable of getting to that finish line. Still. Mariko will be fine.

Most likely.

If not, there’s always the joint exam with Sand—and at least _that _won’t have any Sound-nin to needle him. For now, though, he’s gonna try his best. (If he wins, he’ll join Shikamaru and Hinata in the elite group of Chuunin Who Passed on Their First Try, and he kind of wants to rub that in Naruto’s face. Just a little! In a teasing, friendly way!)

A couple of the Mist-nin and another two from Rock take off as soon as they get the signal to begin. Others start setting up what look like traps; another couple of Mist-nin team up to start attacking the unlucky last Rock-nin, working off leftover tension from the last Ninja War or whatever stupid conflict the villages have gotten into since then.

Riku keeps an eye on that, ready to flicker in if it escalates from “fight” to “murder.” The Sound girl joins him, clucking her tongue at the scene.

“Apparently, you’re some kind of hotshot,” she says conversationally. No obvious weapons on her, but she’s wearing bigger packs than most, about the same size as Riku’s. Specialty in jutsu, or specialty in tools, or specialty in hand-to-hand? Or multiple specialties?

He shrugs, uncomfortable, a little preoccupied with monitoring the fight and the amount of paperwork he’ll have to fill out _again_ if the conversation goes sideways. “Not really,” is all he says.

“Well. Kimimaro and Karin say you are. What’d you do, anyway? It must’ve been pretty spectacular, if _Kimimaro_ wants to recruit you.” Then she gives a little gasp, covering her mouth, eyes wide as she stares at Riku.

A little overacted, he decides, closer to his own acting ability than, say, Ino’s. Even Kairi—who has no formal training, but a sometimes-overbearing mother—could do better.

Heaving a sigh, he tries to sound as put-upon as possible when he says, “Great. Thanks. I’ll _never_ run out of forms to fill out, now.”

Her eyes sparkle, although her expression stays solemn otherwise. “If you run off to Sound, you wouldn’t have to worry about them,” she says. Her grin is cheerful.

“And if I don’t, you guys will just keep saying things to make me do more, is that it?”

A grin, swiftly hidden. Gotcha. “You’re a really suspicious kind of person, aren’t you? Karin didn’t say anything about that. Or is it new?”

“It might have something to do with my roommate lying to me, yeah,” he says thoughtlessly, and only realizes when she goes quiet that he shouldn’t have let that slip.

The girl leans in like she’s interested in continuing the conversation, but the insults in the Mist-Rock fight turn personal. Riku bites back a sigh of relief as he body-flickers into the middle of it.

He’s worked out how to best manage body-flickering and carrying a weapon, which was Tenten’s primary concern when he first suggested flickering during fights. There are some ninja who, by dint of long practice or mystic powers or whatever, don’t need to use hand-seals. Everyone else has to negotiate freeing their hands, or exclusively using knives they can shuffle in between hand-seals (Riku’s seen his uncle juggle six, making use of the rings on the hilts, but Tenten herself only ever tries it with two, and she’s still leagues better than Riku.)

Because he isn’t long-practiced or blessed with the ability to use ninjutsu _without_ seals, Riku’s had to learn how to manage his staff. Given a few months to help him train, Tenten and Gai have had him practicing dropping the staff, clapping his hands together in the Tiger seal, and then grabbing it as his chakra accelerates his body. He can manage it quickly enough, now, that he doesn’t even have to stoop to grab the staff; he hasn’t let it hit the ground in _weeks_, not even with someone launching a counter-attack at him right as he lets go of his weapon.

Flickering in between the combatants, Riku cuts the jutsu with himself between them and the Rock-nin, his staff upraised in a blocking position.

One Mist-nin is a girl with black hair pulled back in a braid. The other one is _Yukiko_.

She falters, and Riku only has to block Braid Girl’s sword with his staff; the Rock-nin, a boy who’d probably blend in with the rocky landscape Riku’s seen in pictures of Iwagakure, is on his back on the sand, face bloodied, eyes a little glazed.

Concussion. Wonderful. Probably knocked his head when he fell. That plus a broken nose—the blood, swelling starting around his eyes, and the visibly crooked nose—and the kid isn’t in great shape.

Braid Girl snarls. “Get out of the way!” She levels her sword at Riku in a pose that Tenten would roll her eyes at. So many openings; even if Riku can’t take full advantage of them, he’s trained enough to spot them.

Yukiko grabs her shoulder—is shrugged off—grabs her more firmly. “Hey, let it go. It’s not worth it.” And she nods to Riku’s right.

He turns his head just slightly, spots the Sound girl standing just close enough to jump in if she wanted. She waves at them, eyebrows raised, face neutral.

Braid Girl grumbles and stomps off. Riku lowers his staff in a universal signal of peace but keeps his body in between Yukiko and the Rock-nin, just in case.

“Hey Yukiko,” he says. “Long time, no see.”

“Hey Riku.” Her lips twitch, like she’s biting back a smile. “I see you’re still trying to save everyone.”

“It worked before.”

She does laugh at that, and he grins back. He wasn’t closest to Yukiko—it was awkward, because she _hated_ Karin and Karin was kind of his closest friend among the “recruits”—but they were friendly. Once they all got out, she’d stuck around him, along with the others from his hall.

Eventually, Tsunade sent an ANBU to collect Riku, Yakumo, and Mariko from the outpost. The ANBU and the outpost leader sorted out the remaining kidnapped genin and shipped them back to their various homes. Riku and Yukiko parted on good terms, but he hadn’t expected to see her again. Even knowing she (and Hiroshi, who he knew a little better) was from Mist, Riku hadn’t had even a stray thought that he might see them again.

Same with Karin and Kimimaro, actually. Maybe the ninja world is just a lot smaller than it ought to be, based on all the maps. Maybe Riku _ought_ to plan to run into every ninja he ever meets.

(Does that mean the kidnappers from Cloud might pop back up? Or Takuma, also from Cloud but kidnapped by Sound? What about Keisuke, Sen, and Yome, from Sand? If Riku’s team washes out of these Exams, will the others be there at the joint Exams?

On the Islands, if someone lives on a different island, in a different town, you have to put in _effort_ to see them. You don’t just stumble over them, happenstance, while you’re going about other business. It seems unfair for the much bigger, much more populated ninja world to be where Riku’s tripping over these acquaintances.)

“Alright, I know it’s going to bother you.” She puts her knives away and waves at the downed Rock-nin. “Check him out. I won’t stab you in the back.”

“I appreciate that,” he says dryly, setting his staff down as he kneels beside the boy. “Hey, mind if I fix your nose?” he asks, trying to soften his voice.

He’s not skilled at that part, yet, but the boy is too dazed to do more than stare at him. Riku places one hand on the boy’s nose and warns, “This will hurt a bit.”

Chakra isn’t perfect, and Riku isn’t about to use his other healing ability out here in the open, but he gets the nose set a little better than it would without it, escalates the healing process so the boy’s eyes look bruised without the worst part of the swelling. He also sorts out that concussion while he’s at it.

(If he could use the Mystical Palm Technique correctly, this would be _nothing_. It’d be easy as breathing.)

When the boy is cognizant enough to stand up and defend himself, but still too startled to begin thanking (or being suspicious of) Riku, Riku abandons him, body-flickering some yards away, still along the line between sections A and B, but not in the boy’s face.

Good deed accomplished for the day, and Yukiko doesn’t seem eager to talk about the good old times when Sound kidnapped and tried to slowly indoctrinate them. The Sound girl _does_ follow him, but she doesn’t try to strike up a conversation. Instead, she keeps a nice, healthy distance, far enough that Riku can’t really get rid of her, close enough for all their competition to wonder whether they’re teaming up.

Resigned to all the paperwork, Riku turns his attention to section A. It looks like a long expanse of marshland spilling out onto a beach, but there’s no sign so far of any of their teammates.

///

Theoretically, Riku knows that this part of the Exams takes three days. In a relay race, that obviously means that it’ll take Tsuru about a day to get to him, and then another day for him to get to Mariko.

Realistically, he is not prepared to sit around for twenty-four hours, give or take. He’s fourteen. He’s _bored_. He doesn’t particularly want to give anything away, so he only runs through basic exercises and doesn’t even summon a clone to spar with, but that just means he’s bored even while training.

He ought to be _doing_ something.

It turns out that the Sound girl didn’t so much give up on him as she decided to bide her time; she waits until Riku’s cooling down from wind-sprints before she approaches again, maybe three hours after their first conversation.

Riku doesn’t _quite_ sprawl out on the ground, but he sits a little looser and a little more tired than he’d like, for a fight. Which is dumb and means he went too hard, but it was either that or start pacing, or pick a fight himself just for something to _do_. When the girl approaches, he levers himself up and keeps his staff handy, just in case.

She pays it exactly zero attention but puts her hands up in the universal signal for _look, I__’m unarmed, I come in peace_. In a ninja, it’s more symbolic than practical; even Riku could do some damage with his bare, upraised hands, and he’s one of the worst genin he knows in terms of potential damage-dealing.

“I just wanna talk,” she says, and stops a good three, four feet away, close enough to lunge right into his space if she body-flickered at the same time. Far enough that Riku could get away by using his own body-flicker—and that, at least, he _is_ good at.

“Then talk.”

She eyes him, then shrugs. Lowers her hands slowly, keeping them out of her pockets and packs. “Look, I get that you don’t trust me. I’m not asking you to.”

Riku raises both eyebrows. “Right. And you trying to get me to run off to Sound was, what, a mistake?”

She makes a face. “No, I meant that. You don’t need to trust _me_ to realize that you’d be better off with Sound. But you’re never gonna trust us while Karin’s hanging around, are you?”

The look on her face is earnest, and she isn’t holding her body tense and ready. This might as well be a conversation between acquaintances; if there are stakes here, she’s doing a respectable job of not showing them.

“I’m not about to trust her again,” he says, not a direct answer but close enough. “And I _know_ she’s not going to leave Sound. If you think I’ll buy that, think again.”

The girl shakes her head. “I wasn’t going to say that. Wow, you really _are_ suspicious, aren’t you? I was just going to say, if Lord Orochimaru had _you_, he might not need _her_. You’ve got some kind of healing bloodline, right?”

Riku blinks, momentarily thrown. That’s…not a bad explanation, as far as ninja go. It isn’t _true_—Kakashi would have mentioned if their family had anything beyond the sense of smell, and it isn’t like the Islands are swimming in ninja bloodline abilities—but it’s a better explanation than “weird healing magic, probably related to my magical disappearing universal key.”

Less likely to get him into trouble, too. When he gets back to the village, he can make an appointment with the Hokage and suggest this. If Sound has already bought it, that’s even better, right?

“What I can do isn’t the same as what she does,” he says, a sideways confirmation just in case Tsunade nixes that idea. One demerit for impulsive actions is enough without earning more.

The girl shrugs. “Well, yeah. Yours is better, isn’t it? That’s why Kimimaro is here, anyway.” Then she looks genuinely worried about having let that slip. “Uh. I mean.”

Eyes narrowed, Riku asks, “Does Orochimaru expect _me_ to heal him, if he relapses?” There’s been enough time since he escaped Sound and now for Kimimaro to start deteriorating, if he’s been using his abilities the same way he was before…

The girl grins at him. “Didn’t you already? Anyway, that’s not what I meant. Kimimaro’s here because you healed him.”

Riku isn’t sure whether she’s just stating a fact—if Riku hadn’t healed the guy, he’d still be comatose in Sound, unless Kabuto or Orochimaru decided to finally pull the plug—or implying that there’s some sort of debt Kimimaro thinks he owes. Which would be dumb, because before, Karin asked for Riku’s help and paid for it.

As far as Riku’s concerned, there’s nothing—no debt or obligation, no connection—between him and Kimimaro. He doesn’t know the guy and he doesn’t _want_ to know the guy. If Kimimaro feels otherwise, that’s his problem.

“I didn’t do it for _him_,” Riku says. “Anyway, great sales pitch, but I’m not interested.”

The girl pouts, looking put out but not defeated. Great. “What if we had something you wanted?”

Riku isn’t idiot enough to reach for where Kairi’s necklace usually lays, but his fingers twitch, wanting assurance. He shoves his hands in his pockets, just to be safe. “You don’t.” He turns away from her, scanning the horizon for any sign of Tsuru—or any of the other genin from Section A.

Just because it’ll take most of a day to cross each leg doesn’t mean the journey will be _exact_. She might be a little late; she might be _early_. She’ll never let him live it down if he makes her wait, especially if he lets some girl from Sound distract him from the Chuunin Exams.

The girl hums, incapable of taking a hint. “You’re sure about that?”

This is a trap. Riku _knows_ it’s a trap. He stays strong for a long minute, facing away from her, shoulders tense, hands clenched into fists where they’re hidden. He has to concentrate to loosen his jaw, regulate his breathing, force his heart to beat at a normal pace. Thankfully, he catches it before his pituitary gets involved.

Emotional reactions he can manage, but hormone responses are a pain to deal with. Genin medical apprentices are _supposed_ to be decent at dealing with them, because fight-or-flight is common and the ability to quickly soothe it is one of the prerequisites for fieldwork, but Tsuru isn’t any better than Riku, and Mariko is _worse_. Anything dealing with the brain is outside of all their comfort zones. Riku had expected that to be more of a hurdle than his pathetic chakra reserves, really, even had a half-formed plan to get Anzu to tutor him on all the messy little neurological processes he thought he’d need to learn.

Guess that’s moot, now. Riku’s always been more inclined to action than bookwork and study, anyway. Miss Honda’s pronouncement might have been for the best. (But then, where does that leave him? All the _action_ in the ninja world is violent, and Miss Honda can imply that’s a failure of imagination all she likes, but how’s Riku supposed to fix that?)

With clear eyes and a failure of willpower rather than emotion, Riku glances at the Sound girl. She’s not grinning, but her expression is expectant. At whatever she sees on his face, she smiles.

“Trust me,” she says, “you’re going to want what we’ve got.”

And then, before he has time to tell her _no, wait, I didn__’t agree to anything_, she disappears in a puff of smoke. He didn’t even see her shape the hand-seal for a body-flicker, he was that distracted.

Well, crap. There goes his training time; if his team passes, Miss Kurenai is going to have him filling out forms for the whole month until the tournament starts.

///

The other genin leave Riku alone for most of the day. When he’s satisfied that they’re all far enough away to not have a clear view of him, he makes a shadow clone and takes a nap.

Naps while he has a clone aren’t true sleep, because as soon as the clone disperses, he gets a chunk of memory that his brain hasn’t had time to process. He’s more prone to sleep problems if he overdoes it—nightmares, sure, but also sleepwalking and sleep paralysis in equal turns, as if he’s somehow damaged his body’s ability to regulate when he ought to be moving and when he really shouldn’t. The effects aren’t prolonged, so he hasn’t reported them yet, but it’s a risk in this sort of environment.

Not as risky as trying to face enemies on no sleep, though. Exhaustion kills more than enemy action. Miss Honda made sure to drill that into all her students. An exhausted medic is worse than useless, they’re _actively dangerous_ to themselves and their team.

So. Sleeping under clone-watch it is. If he were Naruto, he’d make a little unit to watch from all directions, but even one is pushing it for Riku.

His clone wakes him up when it’s dark, the half-full moon illuminating the beach. Riku pulls himself up, surveys what ended his nap: ninja heading toward the borderline.

The clone surrenders the staff but doesn’t disperse just yet. In a fight, an extra set of hands can be useful, and Riku’s been out for—well, about five hours. Long enough to have restored his chakra to full.

Enough to summon a second clone and get a third set of hands. Riku can spare a knife for each of them, but not a full set for throwing.

Gai hasn’t had time to teach Riku much in the way of formations—Riku’s still wading through the basics of one-on-one combat, although Gai’s hinted that paired combat is on the horizon—but Riku’s Academy crash-course covered the bare bones of team theory. Riku takes point, letting his clones flank him on either side, a classic V formation with either clone turned out to give their little triangle a nice spread. They don’t have eyes watching their backs, which worries Riku.

The primary threat won’t come from the front, after all; Riku needs to be more worried about _his_ set of competitors than Tsuru’s. There’s nothing for it, though, so he’ll just have to trust Tsuru to warn him about any enemies at his back.

She isn’t in the first wave, which is fortunate; the four Mist-nin seem to be working together, and there’s another Mist-Rock skirmish that Riku doesn’t dare try to break up this time. In the end, the Rock-nin lay, thoroughly beaten and bleeding, on the ground, while three Mist-nin on Riku’s side take off toward the last leg of the race.

One of the Mist-nin on Tsuru’s side is missing their teammate, but Riku’s not sure if they trusted another team to take their token to Section C or if they’re just waiting for their teammate to show up. Or if they expected their teammate to abandon them, resigned to it and unwilling to just leave the race. All the Mist-nin on that side stick around, fanning out to patrol the border.

The second wave of genin includes more Cloud-nin. Like the Mist-nin, those from Cloud seem to have decided to operate as a squad rather than individual teams. They rush the line of Mist-nin, and Riku quickly flickers several yards away from the ensuing melee and smells Tsuru before he hears or sees her, with most of his attention on the fighting.

Tsuru sidles up trailing blood on the beach. One of the clones makes a sharp sound, pulling Riku’s gaze in that direction, and he examines her with narrowed eyes from the very edge of his territory. Her shirt, which didn’t start out quite as skimpy as what she wore to the first phase, is torn around her ribs, exposing bandages wrapped around her abdomen.

Not a broken rib. Gut wound? Those can be _nasty_, and while Riku’s read more than a few treatises on how to treat them, he wouldn’t want to be responsible for one all on his own in field conditions. (Better him alone than Tsuru, though; Tsuru is _not_ good with most internal work. Riku’s been studying with an eye toward combat missions, and gut wounds are depressingly common on those.)

At least it can’t be too severe, not if she’s up and mobile. There are idiots who would try that, but not Tsuru. She’s good at scans, must have already checked herself out and concluded that moving is fine—or, if not fine, worth the risk. She doesn’t have a death wish. She’ll be fine.

“You need to get moving,” is what she says when she’s close enough to say it without shouting. “I lost my token.”

That isn’t good.

“Tell me you saw who took it,” Riku says.

Tsuru’s mouth twitches, a grimace trying to masquerade as a grin. “I’ll go one better: I saw who _you_ can track down. Guy who took it from me passed it to his teammate, along with like, five more. Mist-nin. The one on your side is tall, with a spear.”

That isn’t much to go on, but it’s better than nothing.

Now, time is one of his enemies, along with this Mist-nin. Riku can’t just worry about clearing his section of the race—now he has to hunt someone down, and that is _not_ his specialty.

“Be careful!” Tsuru says after him, not loud enough to attract too much attention as Riku takes off. None of the Mist-nin on the beach have spears, so he rules them out.

Good thing he has a map—and too bad it doesn’t come with a whole infiltration team. (He’s going to have to admit when he gets back to Konoha that Kiba might have been _useful_. Or he can just tell Miss Kurenai, let her pass that along.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will wrap up phase 2 with...well, more of what you'd generally expect from phase 2 of the Chuunin Exams. (Fights.) Initially, it was all gonna be one chapter, but then it was a monster chapter and that threw off the pacing, so here we go.
> 
> I'll be posting the next chapter in two weeks, on **October 19-20**. Thank you to everyone for the kind comments and the kudos!


	5. instinct made you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of phase 2 of the Chuunin Exams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content notes**: hoo boy. Okay. Violence, more graphic than Naruto usually gets. Injury, including a head injury, and continuing effects thereof. Emetophobia warning in both major and minor ways in several scenes, comment or message me for more details. Life-threatening danger. Riku's standard lack of self-care or self-restraint. Both correct _and_ incorrect medic-nin practice. All hurt/little comfort. 
> 
> I think I got everything, but please let me know if there's anything else I need to tag/warn for.

The trick to body-flickering repeatedly is spotting. Sakura taught it to Riku ages ago, and he still thinks of her when he focuses on a “safe” landing spot. No one’s ever taught him how to track, but that’s part of the challenge, isn’t it? Assessing _all_ your survival skills, not just the ones you’re best at. Riku picks his landing points with care, tracing out routes up whenever possible: up shipwrecks, to stand on broken masts and survey his surroundings; up rocky crags, to look for any Mist-nin with bright green tokens.

His clones have fanned out, one taking the beach path and the other heading further out to sea. His clones can’t use chakra to the extent that Naruto’s can, but they can body-flicker with the same ease as Riku, and they can run on water.

The stretch of beach would be beautiful under the night sky, if that sky didn’t constantly threaten rain. Under the pale moonlight, the sand is wan, the ocean dull and dark, no little lights illuminating the surf because storm clouds have blocked all the stars.

If spring or summer ever touch this country, Riku wants to visit. It’s the closest he’s felt to his childhood since he became a ninja and seeing it overcast and dreary makes him unbearably nostalgic for the Islands.

When he spots the woman picking on a kid, he’s leaping down several jutting-up rocks, the tallest almost higher than a ship’s mast, toward the ocean, about ready to just head for the line to try to catch the token-thief there. Not a good look, given that the kid _might_, barely, be Riku’s age. The woman must be as old as Anzu—clear into her twenties and built like a solid stone wall—and he doesn’t notice her weapon at first, too caught off-guard by the bright flash grenade as he makes his last jump, changing trajectory to take him closer to the pair. He only just manages to get one arm up around his head, incidentally blocking most of the flash.

Instead, thrown off, he topples, knocking his head against the last craggy rock on his way down. Disoriented, Riku pulls himself onto his knees in sand and shallow water at the base of the rock. There are spots in his vision, from where his arm failed to block either the light or the rock. He’s a lot more concerned with the pounding in his head and the nausea crawling up his throat. His scalp feels wet on the side that bounced, from seawater or blood. (Probably blood.) Balance shot, only a firm grip on the rock to his left keeps him from falling face-first into the water.

The woman strolls over, easy as you please. Around the migraine building in his temples, Riku takes stock of what she’s got: some kind of fancy spear, maybe a trident, in her left hand, a knife in her right. More fishnets than clothes, but armored plates along her arms and torso. Her legs are unprotected, at least. Riku can probably manage to make her regret that.

Around her neck are ten or so wooden tokens, a riot of colors that includes bright green.

Without warning, she lunges forward with the spear—nope, it’s a bident, like in the old fishers’ tales—and Riku scrambles to get his staff into a guard position.

He’ll say one thing for Tenten’s training. Even with his head pounding and the urge to vomit rising, his muscles know how to move. Complicated maneuvers are beyond him, but he blocks the first couple of stabs decently.

“Aren’t you a cute little Leaf,” the woman sneers, flinging her knife at him—he rolls out of the way, splashes deeper into the ocean, feels the downward slope beneath his feet. He can either try his concentration and get on top of the water or he can try to stay next to the rock where the woman is.

While he’s weighing options, her hand is in a pouch at her waist. Whether she’s got another knife, another flash grenade, or something even worse in there, Riku’s sure he doesn’t want to find out.

“There’s no reason to fight,” he tries, keeping most of his attention on her while he scouts for a good place to flicker to.

Her grin reveals teeth filed to points. Ugh. Riku thought that was a _myth_, just something Kiba invented to mess with him. Some of those teeth glint metallically, either capped or replaced. In daylight, Riku might be able to determine whether they’re gold (tacky) or steel (terrifying).

He drops his staff for a second to pull his hands into the Tiger hand seal, and in that second, the woman launches a second flash grenade at him.

By virtue of long practice, Riku gets the body-flicker jutsu off while the projectile is midair, not yet gone off. The issue with body-flickering on a probable concussion: his vision is a storm in motion, everything way more blurred than he’s ever noticed. The grenade is little more than a grey smear in the air, but Riku still manages to grab his staff one-handed and swing it, bat-like, at that smear, knocking more momentum into it, encouraging it to sail even further behind him. It moves, syrupy-slow in the middle of Riku’s body-flicker.

Gai and Lee have demonstrated feats of dexterity in body-flicker speeds. Riku isn’t at that level (_yet_), but he’s good enough to drop his staff again, this time in favor of a knife, and get close to the Mist-nin. At that point, his chakra bottoms out and the world resumes normal speed, colors resolving into identifiable shapes, with the flash grenade spiked far enough away that it detonates harmlessly out of Riku’s field of vision.

The Mist-nin jerks back, eyes dilating as she tries to both move out of range of his knife and knee him in the crotch. Only, well, she doesn’t adjust her aim for Riku’s (lack of) height, and anyway, he fights taijutsu experts on a regular basis. Sure, he’s never fought Gai concussed—and as good training as that might be, his teacher would never go for it. But Riku’s trained when he was exhausted, when he was sore, wrung-out, chakra-depleted.

He dodges her knee, considers the situation, and drops his knife in favor of forming the seal for a shadow clone. The real Riku grabs hold of the plethora of cords around her neck with his now-free hand.

She grabs back, tries to squeeze his wrist hard enough to release his grip with one hand and drops her weapon to better claw out his eyes with the other. Staffs, and by extension spears, tridents, and bidents like hers, are excellent weapons at middle range, but not so good up close and personal.

It’s hard, to dig someone’s eyes out with your bare hands, but he gets the feeling that this lady could do it. Who even _files their teeth to points_. That can’t be good for her dental health. Hopefully she has a good dentist.

Twisting the cords around and yanking cuts off her air supply, chokes her. (Sora and Kairi would be _appalled_.) Riku uses the grip to anchor himself, refuses to surrender it no matter how her nails dig into the knobs of his wrist. His other hand fends off her attempts at his eyes, while the clone grabs his discarded knife and saws at the cords.

Unfortunately, the woman has the advantage in both weight (not just lean muscle like Riku, who’s built more like a swimmer or runner) and in height. The clone has to either work on the cords or try to drag her off Riku and chooses the cords.

She wrestles Riku to the shallows and it becomes a contest of whether he can keep his head above water while she tries to alternately drown or disfigure him. If she’s noticed his clone hovering right by her shoulder, she gives no sign of it.

If Riku goes back to Konoha missing an eye, he will _never be able to live it down_. “Copying the copycat” springs to mind.

So, he takes a deep breath and lets her push him underwater, feeling the first cord give as his vision blurs. His grip tightens on the cords, twisting again to make her struggle for breath just as much as he will in a second. His ears fill with water, then with his heartbeat. Another cord snaps, and another, and another, and—

The grip holding him under pulls back, and Riku’s yanked out of the water violently, fingers digging into his shoulders to drag him up into the air. He jerks, gasps for breath. His clone’s cut all the cords. They float and bob in the ocean, wooden tokens sinking quickly. The woman lets out an inarticulate sound of rage and skewers his clone with a beautiful throw of her hastily retrieved bident.

Headache now magnified and chest aching from more than just a temporary lack of air, Riku scoops up as many tokens as he can see. His vision swims badly—the green smear slips through his fingers _twice_ before he numbly takes hold of it, along with a small handful of others, and jams them into his weapons-pouch.

Scrambling to get back her bident—Riku could’ve tried to take it, but it seems like more trouble than it’s worth—the woman is too late when she turns on him with a snarl. Riku’s pulled together the tattered fragments of chakra control he can still call his and shapes them into the Tiger seal his hands form.

His own staff, abandoned several yards away, almost gets him knifed in the back when he goes for it.

Another problem with body-flickering: if your opponent predicts where you’ll be, they can launch a counterattack before you get there. Pointy Teeth Lady must’ve thrown her knife before even looking at him, while he was still taking hold of Tsuru’s token. Between the pain in his head, his fast-dwindling chakra, and the way his environment has gone smeary again outside of the points he picked before flickering, it’s random luck that lets Riku bump into the blunt handle of the knife on his way to his weapon, rather than the sharp edge or sharper point.

Twisting out of its way is second nature, after his stint in Sound, and Riku hurries off to the next nearest rock outcropping.

The woman screams again, behind him. Riku doesn’t pause to look back.

///

Body-flickering with a pounding headache and growing nausea just worsens the symptoms, to the point where a different, much-younger Mist-nin tries to catch Riku off-guard while Riku is throwing up on the beach. It’s unpleasant for everyone—Riku most of all, because he can smell it and won’t ever be able to un-smell it, but also the other genin, who doesn’t have the spatial awareness Leviathan gave to plankton.

The poor guy puts his foot in it and goes sliding, not falling all the way down like in a movie, but close. Riku thwacks him in the knees with his staff, uncoordinated and undaunted by it. He has a big old wooden stick, as tall as he is and solid enough, and the other boy is an amateur. Riku doesn’t need to be at his best, to carefully aim and consider his strikes, to take out the enemy’s knees and send him sprawling, almost falling into the vomit puddle.

Riku _ought_ to stick around and finish the fight, but his guts are now protesting the smell more than the idea of moving, and he’s on a deadline here. He has to get the tokens to Mariko in enough time for _her_ to run her leg of this race. He can’t afford to linger, especially since he doesn’t want to risk body-flickering unless it’s an emergency.

A spectacular sunrise blooms on the horizon, and Riku can’t even appreciate it because he’s stuck in the middle of a test. He spares a moment for it, though, for the way the reds and oranges spill, flame-bright, over the dark sky, for the way the sun seems to chase away the storm clouds.

Part of him expects the symptoms to fade once he’s away from the smell, but they don’t. It’s as if the flash grenade exacerbated the normal chakra exhaustion symptoms, so Riku’s normally quick recovery time is gone.

That…sucks. Riku hasn’t felt so vulnerable since he had his chakra taken away from him. He’s got his staff, his knives, his medical supplies… He isn’t a sitting duck, but he isn’t _safe_, either.

Well. The Chuunin Exams aren’t about _safe_. Riku will just have to get through this.

To top it all off, he’s shivering, too, from his brief dunk in the ocean. His hair curls a bit around his face, annoyingly, and his clothes are damp and uncomfortable everywhere they aren’t wet and uncomfortable. His medical pouch is water-tight, thank Leviathan, but his weapon-pouch isn’t, so with any luck, the sun will dry him out before he sees any more conflict.

With any luck, the sun will dry out his headache and nausea, too. That seems like too much to hope for, though.

Riku keeps on the beach, in part because it’s a little more clear—broken up by the occasional shipwreck, the odd jutting rock, but for the most part flat and very, very visible. He keeps his staff in hand, running below his top speed to both maintain his situational awareness and to avoid another nausea attack. Between his roiling stomach and the pressure in his head, even if he knew any cool jutsu like Naruto’s _Rasengan_, he wouldn’t be able to use them.

(Maybe as much as an hour after he’s started down the beach, he remembers that his head isn’t _just_ hurting because of the grenade. He pats around for damage, finds a scrape and hisses at the blood-tacky line of it two inches above his ear, but his skull doesn’t feel at all cracked, so he probably isn’t going to die from a brain hemorrhage anytime soon. If he were sure Mist or Sound or both weren’t watching him, somehow, he’d risk the healing ability, but he _isn__’t_ sure and that seems more important than how badly his head hurts.)

A couple genin harass him—the Rock-nin he intervened to save earlier, who throws some knives at Riku but takes off before exchanging blows, and a Cloud-nin Riku doesn’t recognize, who actually gets Riku on his back on the sand before Riku manages to kick his feet out from under him.

From there, it devolves into a wrestling match, with sand in eyes and mouths (Riku’s scarf blocks out most of it, a nice comeback after its complete failure to block out the smell earlier). Riku gets a black eye, and while he’s reeling, feels someone else yank the Cloud-nin off him.

Hears the crack of a fist connecting with fragile bone, a nose breaking, and the Cloud-nin’s shout of outrage and alarm. Then a thud as feet connect with a solid chest, and memories from Riku’s clone slam into him, even as Riku struggles to right himself.

The other boy, at least, looks just as badly off, dazed and groaning, putting pressure on the bridge of his nose like he thinks it’s just a nosebleed. That must hurt, and if Riku were feeling better, he’d correct the kid. Instead, when it looks like the other boy won’t be getting back up, Riku takes off.

Healing is beyond him, now, and anyway, Riku doesn’t feel like fixing someone else’s nose when his own eye is swelling and smarting. A broken nose won’t _kill_ that boy; he’ll live, so Riku doesn’t need to feel guilty about leaving him like that.

It’s the Chuunin Exams. Riku needs to remember that.

It takes what feels like hours to hike the rest of the length of the B section, but Riku does it without further incident. He runs out of drinking water, which isn’t great—he _can_ take seawater and make it drinkable, but it takes a lot longer than he has. He’s hydrated enough that those symptoms, at least, won’t start up for a while, so he just has to deal with the continued headache. Sometime around hour two, give or take, the nausea _finally_ wears off. His chakra seems to be back, too, although he’s not keen to depend on it without either a good reason or a good night’s sleep.

Good thing, too, because when Riku approaches the end of the beach, he realizes he’s looking at an absolute mess.

The end of his section is up at the top of a cliff wall. There, the line of genin wait, not allowed to get close enough to look down directly, but close enough to clearly see from Riku’s distant vantage point, even with his vision tunneling a bit. Okay, great, he’ll need chakra to get up that, but no big deal, it isn’t so high that it’ll take more than a minute or two.

No, the big deal is at the _bottom_ of the cliff, where waves crash up against rock. More specifically, where the waves crash up against the rock _and_ what looks suspiciously like a kraken’s tentacles.

Krakens, like Santa Claus, are mythical creatures. Riku has spent many, many hours of his short life swearing to Sora they don’t exist, they’re just made-up. Krakens and mermaids and sirens, all sailors’ stories to keep kids off ships until the adults think they’re old enough.

Well, Riku’s going to have to apologize to _both_ his childhood friends: Kairi for temporarily losing her necklace, and Sora for doubting the existence of _giant murderous sea creatures_.

He isn’t the only one hesitating over the monster. There’s a small crowd gathered just out of tentacle-reach (close to fifty feet, and the tentacles are _huge_ affairs, fully capable of breaking bones in a single swing). They toss weapons at it, but if it’s anything like the stories, its hide is thick enough to repel normal blades and arrows.

As he watches, a couple of Mist-nin break away from the pack, both dashing forward from opposite sides of the crowd. They run into range of the kraken’s tentacles, keep running as two massive limbs head in the Mist-nins’ directions, and then body-flicker just before they’re crushed below the surf.

One surfaces on the cliff, the other just under it, but neither are fast enough to dodge the second strikes, by tentacles that moved into position as the genin flickered into their new positions. The one on the water manages to leap away, handspringing off the water’s choppy surface a few times until she gets to safety.

Her companion is less lucky. Riku wrestles back nausea as the sickening crash registers, followed shortly by the genin’s screams. If he’s screaming, he’s still alive. The tentacle grinds him into the rock for a few seconds before pulling back, and then another Mist-nin is there, appearing and disappearing swiftly, only to reappear on the beach just a few yards away from Riku, well out of the kraken’s range.

Riku doesn’t even hesitate. He should; better yet, he shouldn’t even _consider_ what he does next. But he’s a lot better at acting than thinking, and even if he thought about it, he’d still choose this course. He would’ve always chosen this course, from the moment he stood in Chouji’s hospital room and realized that all the adults around him would have let that kid die if the circumstances had been different.

Here are different circumstances, and Riku isn’t about to let anyone die.

(Later, he’ll notice that the necklace he so carefully tucked into his luggage is around his neck. Later, he’ll wonder if Miss Kurenai or Tsuru rummaged through his things and found it, put it on him in some misguided attempt to make him feel better while he was unconscious. Even later, he’ll try to convince himself that he misremembered, that he only _meant_ to put it away and instead forgot and left it around his neck.

He won’t realize how long it hung there. How it shimmered into place between one breath and the next, as resolute as his certainty that he has to _act_, to protect someone’s life, to prevent them from slipping away. He doesn’t notice, in the moment, a cord he’s long-since grown used to.

Before he lost it, he didn’t even take Kairi’s necklace off to shower; the feel of it, the weight, the comfort. He doesn’t even register it, even now, after losing it for months and deliberately choosing not to wear it.

He certainly doesn’t notice that it’s above his shirt, gleaming just a touch more than normal in the rays of a newly risen sun.)

“I’m a medic,” he opens with, as the uninjured Mist-nin pulls a knife at his approach. “I can help. Let me help.”

The injured boy gives a long, wet groan that Riku doesn’t like one bit, and that more than Riku’s words decides the other Mist-nin. “I’ll stick this in you if you’re lying,” she tells him, and Riku nods, dismissing the threat as soon as it’s made.

First up, he needs to scan the boy, see the extent of the damage. The outer injuries are severe, but manageable with immediate medical intervention—the right arm’s crushed all the way to the shoulder, possibly including part of his torso, maybe the lungs with the blood on his lips. His hip’s mangled, too, but his legs look okay. Physical therapy could get him far, if Riku doesn’t mess this up. Not back into the Chuunin Exams, maybe not even back as a genin, but he could function, could have a life, could find a hobby or a trade to work.

(He looks about Sora’s age, and Riku tastes more bile at the back of his throat, has to blink back a superimposed image of a different boy lying in his own lap and whimpering, the smell of blood so thick in the air he can’t even think around it.)

The scan reveals that his lung is damaged but not punctured, the ribs on his right side all cracked but only one broken. The internal injuries are worse than the external.

“How’re your chakra reserves?” he asks, glancing up at the young woman. “Do you have enough to lend me some?” He’s going to need everything she’s got and then some, to get this boy out with the least damage possible.

She looks even more suspicious at that. “Lend you some? You can’t _lend_ someone chakra.”

He blinks at her. “Uh.” Is this just not a thing most genin know, or is Mist so backwards their medics can’t even sync up and share chakra? How does their hospital get any major work done? Or do people with serious injuries just _always die_ in Mist? “Yeah, you can, if the other person knows the jutsu. I don’t have enough chakra on my own, but if you loan me yours, I can heal him.”

Her eyes skate over the boy laying on her folded knees. He meets her gaze, eyes glassy; Riku doubts he’s aware of what’s going on around him. Hopefully, he won’t remember much of this at all.

“Fine. Do the jutsu. What do I need to do?”

“Hold out your hand.”

Working with this young woman is nothing like working with Mariko—with his teammate, it’s a constant push-pull, Mariko shoving her chakra at him and trying to direct where it goes all at once. Now, Riku has to reach out for every bit of chakra he needs, then has to funnel it into the Mystical Palm jutsu he can’t perform on his own.

With someone else acting as battery, though…

Riku fixes what he can, repairing the worst of the internal damage. He straightens the broken rib, putting it back into place, and re-inflates the injured lung, patching the hole that leaked blood into it after shooing that blood out. He can’t do much for the arm beyond cauterizing, as painlessly as he can manage, the blood vessels, soothing the inflamed nerves, unclenching muscles that dead-end in the missing upper arm.

Trailing back down the boy’s side, Riku makes a note of what his chakra won’t be able to mend: all the cracked ribs, organs crushed beyond his ability to repair. Miss Honda could do it, of course, but Riku has neither the medical knowledge nor the chakra to do anything about those.

What he has is something he isn’t supposed to use. Something he _should not_ use here and now, in front of witnesses, in the middle of the Chuunin Exams, with Sound already onto him.

But Sound already knows. How much worse could it really be, if Mist knows too? (He’s _already_ been kidnapped by Cloud and Sound, and he’s better now, more skilled, more knowledgeable.)

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Riku disengages with the young woman first, the boy second. Takes another deep breath. _Doesn__’t_ summon his key, because he didn’t need it the first time he did this and bringing it out now would only invite more questions. Lays his hands on the boy’s chest, closes his eyes, and thinks of the way Sora smiled when Riku came back to the Islands the first time, his unbroken arm and unshadowed face, the way Riku felt when Sora and Kairi both tugged Riku into a group hug.

Thinks of happy, growing things, the smell of island-air so close to what this beach smells like, the smell of Konoha in spring, the sound of his friends’ laughter shifting into bells, and when Riku opens his eyes, it’s worked.

Not all the damage is gone: Riku suspected there wasn’t anything he could do about the arm, but it looks half-healed, not new. The boy’s face smooths out, lines of pain falling away into nothing, eyes sliding closed as Riku watches. The young woman makes a sound of astonishment, but Riku doesn’t pay her any attention, counting down in his head.

He hasn’t figured out much about his ability, but he has mapped out its parameters. Time is the only thing that brings it back to him—he can’t use it more than once every fifty seconds. While the young woman makes noises across from him, Riku ignores her in favor of keeping his count steady.

Absentmindedly, Riku notices when the gash on his head seals closed, when the bruising on his knuckles under his gloves fades to unmarred skin, when the swelling around his eye reverses. His headache clears up, too, but creeps back in almost as quickly as it left.

When he hits fifty, he calls on the ability again, and again, the bells ring, the flowers bloom.

After the third time, the boy’s arm looks long healed; when Riku scans him, his ribs are all unbroken, his lungs pristine, his organs all where they ought to be and doing their jobs admirably.

Riku lets his hands fall away, sways a bit, and catches himself before he can topple over. He’s tried it six times in short succession, but at that point he passes out for a couple hours and he can’t afford that now. Half as many attempts on an actual patient are disorienting, but he can deal with it.

He _must_ deal with it.

Pushing himself to his feet, he waves off the young woman’s startled thanks. “I couldn’t let him die,” he says, because it’s true. The boy might’ve died from those injuries, and Riku’s never going to be able to turn aside from that, even if it means revealing secrets he shouldn’t or pushing himself harder than he should.

Anyway, he’s still got a kraken to get around and a cliff to climb, and with an example of how _not_ to do those things fresh in his mind, he thinks he knows his path forward.

At the edge of the tide, Riku takes a minute to send a very self-serving prayer to Leviathan, lord of the seas and all that dwells within them, because he just _can__’t_ let a _kraken_ kill him in a ninja test. He refuses.

His only choice, as far as he sees it, is to go fast enough past it that it can’t grab him. He’ll need to body-flicker for that, and between its reach and the cliff wall behind it, he’ll need _at least_ two if not three flickers to pull it off. So he’ll need safe places to land while he reorients and finds the next one—that, as far as he can tell, was the Mist-nin’s mistake: not deciding on landing points _before_ flickering, leaving it to random chance.

With landing spots all picked out in advance, Riku’s found, body-flickering goes much more quickly. Each landing followed by a brief pause to lock eyes on a preselected point, make sure nothing has changed in the space of however many breaths the first flicker took, and then he’s off again, a chain of appearances that can even, sometimes, keep Tenten off of him for whole minutes.

Thankfully, back-to-back body-flickers are Riku’s specialty. He’s never done them while woozy and battling a headache, let alone woozy, with a headache, and channeling chakra to his feet to a) walk on water and then b) run up a cliff, all with a monster right there, ready to grind him into pulp if his timing’s off.

Now would be a wonderful time for a soldier pill, if it wouldn’t kill him to have one. Instead, Riku takes several deep breaths, moving one hand up to press against where Kairi’s necklace lays, in his state thinking nothing of the warmth beneath his palm.

He promised Kairi he’d stay safe until he could give it back to her. He can’t let the monster hit him; he can’t let his control falter and send him plummeting; he can’t stop here. The only move to make is forward.

His headache doesn’t go away, but it does recede a little as his focus shifts, sharpens. Riku eyes the course in front of him, committing where he’ll stop to memory, and then he harnesses his staff to his back and forms the Tiger seal.

_Go time._

Moving around people in body-flicker is generally weird. Time doesn’t stop; Riku’s perception just speeds up enormously, to match his movement speed. One second is still one second, it’s just that Riku can go so much _farther_ in that one second than anyone around him.

Most ninja don’t use body-flicker regularly in combat because it requires a hand seal and chakra—most ninja don’t bother to refine how much chakra they use for it, and since it requires both hands, a ninja has to drop their weapons or otherwise stop attacking long enough to form the seal.

That doesn’t take much time, but in some fights, even that much opening is enough.

For most ninja, it isn’t worth it. It takes chakra they could better use in stronger techniques—it isn’t an offensive move in itself, and trying to use it in combination with melee attacks, or even projectiles, will deplete the average ninja’s chakra supply without much affect unless they can pull off a single-hit knockout. Most ninja who can do that are _already_ fast enough on their own—Lee and Gai don’t need to body-flicker, for instance, because they can move nearly as fast on their own.

(Well. Riku’s checked. He’s still going twice as fast as Gai. But Gai can maintain that speed for _hours_ and Riku’s body-flickers last less than a minute. One day he’ll match Gai’s stamina. One day.)

Riku isn’t most ninja. He can chain body-flickers, one-two-three-four-five if he has to, with barely a pause. If he lines up his stopping spots ahead of time, like he’s done now, he can cut down on how long those pauses are from “seconds” to “literally just long enough to reform the Tiger seal.” He doesn’t have to worry about chakra while he does it, either—the amount of chakra that body-flickers take is negligible, a combination of refinement and his increased understanding of how his own body works.

Sure, most ninja _know_ the body-flicker jutsu increases their metabolism, but do they know what that _means_? How that translates into a burst of energy, of sudden speed, of magnified perception? No, they do not. But Riku does.

He dashes forward, weaving through the crowd even though the movement makes his vision wash out, vertigo striking on the heels of his headache exploding back to full force. He shoves it down, concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, on keeping his chakra steady in his feet and his hands, preparing the next body flicker before he’s left the first one.

When he steps onto the water, the kraken registers him, starts lumbering an arm like a tree trunk in his direction. It’s easy to avoid, slow and telegraphed, even as it follows him. He drops out of the body-flicker on the ocean and it speeds up, manages to crash down a few feet behind where he was before his second flicker.

And then he’s on the wall, chakra still steady in his feet, a medic-nin’s precision for all that Miss Honda has said he isn’t welcome back. He learned everything she ever told him to learn, and it wasn’t his chakra _control_ that was the issue.

The first medical jutsu he ever did was donating chakra to medics during an invasion. He isn’t about to let a giant monster and a bunch of onlookers distract him.

The second flicker fails partway up the cliff, and by then, the crowd has realized someone else is close to making it up the cliff. Riku pays no attention to them beyond the bare minimum: he listens for the sound of knives and metal stars slicing through the air.

If he took one thing out of the Sound base, though, it was how to dodge projectiles while moving at high speeds. Since then, he’s practiced more. None of the weapons hit him; a few embed in the rock, but most bounce off with dull metallic rings, falling harmlessly into the water below.

One of the kraken’s tentacles slams into the wall next to Riku, shakes his footing. He slips.

Catches himself with a hand on one of the knives dug into the rock. Swings, stabilizes his feet, gets into a runner’s starting position before letting go, forming the Tiger seal again.

It could be the headache, could be the nearness of the kraken’s strike; maybe the genin arrayed below him project enough killing intent to register. Whatever caused it, Riku’s heartbeat pounds in his ears, drowning out everything else, and his vision fades in and out.

He doesn’t need to see to run. It’s one of the things he was good at before he became a ninja; one of the things Gai had him practice early and often; one of the things Riku _enjoys_.

One foot in front of the other, in time with the beat in his ears. Until he makes it to the top—until he runs out of space to put his feet, and two hands pull him up.

His eyes open. In front of him are two faces, one more welcome than the other.

Mariko glares at him. Kimimaro just stares. Riku can deal with either of them on a good day, but _both_ when he’d rather collapse is asking a bit much.

“_You__’re_ a bit much,” Mariko says. “Where’re the tokens? You’re not allowed to pass out before you hand them over.”

Riku hands her Tsuru’s—well, he hands her the wad of tokens and sawed-through cords he shoved in his pouch, anyway—but struggles to get his off his thigh. His hands shake; his fingers feel numb.

“It’s there? Let me.” And Mariko kneels with a knife out, dangerously close to his femoral; all Riku can think, while she cuts the cord, is how easy it would be for her to slip and kill him. (Never mind that his pants, just like his shirt, are slash resistant. Never mind that Mariko is better at cutting into people than he is—Riku’s better at sewing them up, but Mariko’s hand never falters or wavers with a blade in it.)

While she works, Kimimaro keeps one hand on Riku’s arm. Wordless. Ominous. Steadying.

She takes a lot less time than Riku did, getting Tsuru’s back, slicing the cord rather than sawing at it. She might like to hear that—to hear Riku acknowledge her superior cord-cutting skills. He tries to tell her that, but he sounds awful even to himself, mumbling and incoherent.

“Okay, let’s get you to the proctors before you keel over, come on…”

He tries to protest—she needs to get _going_, otherwise everything was _useless_—but Mariko bullies him into slinging an arm over her shoulder and walks him over to where several adults wait.

Kimimaro walks with them.

The proctors don’t let Mariko leave her section, but they do let her shrug Riku’s arm off and then shove him past the invisible line to a medic, except it’s not a medic? It’s Tsuru?

Riku frowns, tries to focus. Now his vision doesn’t swim, it _spins_, and the grey sky above him resolves itself into the only constant as his periphery keeps bouncing and jangling. He smells Tsuru, but he can’t see her—or he hears her, but he can’t smell her? He asks for her, for Miss Kurenai, for Kakashi, but he isn’t sure he’s making any sense, and after a while, someone puts a cold hand to his forehead and the world dips out into blankness.

///

Riku opens his eyes to the Destiny Islands horizon. Beneath him, the sand is warm from the day’s sun, only just now setting in front of him. Kairi’s next to him, curled up with her toes under his thigh and her head on his shoulder.

“There’s so many worlds out there,” she says. “Even mine.”

“Even yours,” he agrees. “We’ll find it. We promised, remember?” And he reaches up, tugs the necklace away from his chest so the pearl on it catches the fading sunlight, gleams with it.

She giggles and says, “Of course I remember, silly,” and they both fall silent. Riku closes his eyes.

The air changes, gone arid between one breath and the next. Riku smells the salt tang receding, replaced with dust and old earth. His body feels heavy and held fast, and he tries to open his eyes, but there’s only darkness, like a hand pressed against his face, nearly suffocating.

Suffocating? No. He feels warm, and trapped, but not in danger. Lost, someplace he doesn’t know, but safe.

“You have to protect what matters,” he hears, the same voice he heard in his first dream of the key. “You have…to protect…”

Riku waits, and waits, and waits, for the voice to come back, to finish, to tell him what he’s supposed to protect. Waits to be let out of what’s keeping him still and blind. Instead, he hangs in interminable darkness for what feels like ages, until finally, something inside him turns over, and he falls backwards into darkness, into natural sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> If you want a breakdown of what all Riku does to himself in this (and the previous) chapter, head on over to my [DreamWidth](https://heraldaros.dreamwidth.org/), where the [chapter post](https://heraldaros.dreamwidth.org/6036.html) for this chapter includes a list of Riku's injuries and chakra usage under a cut tag. 
> 
> I'm about to update _the best people_ (chapter 11: "paper trail"), but, **fair warning, there are spoilers** in that story for stuff Riku won't find out for a few more chapters in this fic. I leave it up to you whether that's something you're interested in; if you'd rather wait and find out along with Riku, I'll include in the chapter notes on this story when Riku's caught up.
> 
> Speaking of catching up, I'm moving this story to _weekly_ updates. All the chapters are written and I've edited through chapter 7, so there shouldn't be any delays. The next update will be **next weekend, October 26-27**.


	6. Preliminaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku wakes up in time to fight his way through an elimination round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content notes:** violence, injury, blood, all not quite as bad as last chapter. More headcanons about chakra/chakra coils/the chakra system slid in here (this would be the ninja explanation, since they don't know about Riku's magic).

Riku wakes up feeling gritty and ill-used, muscles sore like he bruised them _all_ yesterday, a sour taste in his mouth, blood still under his fingernails. He tries to roll over and get his head under the covers (which he hasn’t done since he was _six_), anything to keep from waking up.

Yesterday’s series of events haven’t even registered yet; he just feels terrible and wants to tell his mom he can’t go to school. By the afternoon, he’ll be ready to face Sora jumping on his bed to wake him up—he’ll be less groggy, less tired, less pained. But not now, not yet.

“If you forfeit your match by default,” Mariko’s voice, acidic and loud, probably standing next to the bed, “I’ll—I’ll—”

“What _we_ do won’t matter,” Tsuru’s voice, bright and _right next to his ear_, ow, “between his uncle and that troublemaker he lives with.”

“I’m awake,” Riku groans. He doesn’t quite jackknife up, but he moves fast enough to almost bang his skull into Tsuru’s nose, missing by fractions of an inch. “Ugh.”

Moving clears some of the cotton out of his head; whatever painkillers he’s been on, they wore off while he slept, and weren’t strong enough to leave too many lasting side-effects. A combination of drugs and chakra, then.

“You have a couple minutes,” Tsuru says, “you can get up slowly.”

He doesn’t particularly need to; unlike Tsuru, _he_ wasn’t injured in the race, not _really_. A black eye that has since healed doesn’t count. He collapsed from exhaustion, no doubt, but sleep is the cure for that, and he’s slept.

Wait, didn’t he hit his head…? That was just a scratch, though. His fingers probe at that side of his skull, find nothing, and when he sends Tsuru a questioning glance she just shrugs, as lost as he is.

“You almost made the Mist medic-nin cry,” and this is from Mariko, who sounds as unimpressed with this medic as she looks with Riku. Mariko believes everyone should just always be competent at their jobs and has zero patience for anyone else’s circumstances. She resents Riku being the tiniest bit late to his shift, let alone any display of _emotion_. “Apparently, you burnt your chakra coils with your last run.”

“Chakra coils can burn?” Riku’s never heard of that.

Mariko rolls her eyes, says, “_Obviously_,” and leaves the room. Tsuru sighs and slings an arm around Riku’s shoulders.

“Let’s get over to the prelim arena and I’ll try to explain.”

///

(On their walk, Riku’s hand closes on Kairi’s necklace, and he doesn’t notice for one, two, three heartbeats what the problem with that is. Uneasiness works into him slowly as he wracks his brain, trying to recall if he accidentally left it on, or left it out where Miss Kurenai or Tsuru might stumble over it and think to bring it to him.

He can’t _ask_, in case he did forget wearing it. Tsuru already thinks he’s lost it without him confirming he has. Without other options, he lets the issue go for now, tucking the necklace into his shirt and taking comfort in it instead of worrying.)

///

Tsuru dribbles the explanation of burnt chakra coils out around the edges of other competitors’ preliminary matches, and only after she’s explained that they have preliminaries because too many genin passed through the relay race gauntlet. “Even with those Mist-nin basically headhunting,” she says, “five teams made it through, and only two of them are from Mist. So. We get to have a preliminary round to weed out some of us foreign ninja.”

The “burnt chakra coils” account boils down to _yeah kinda_, because “burn” is imprecise. (Or, as Tsuru says, “a metaphor for a weird perception problem, just go with it.”) “Damaged” is more accurate, and normally Mariko would be all over the more accurate wording, but she was “super worried, I mean, you kind of just collapsed on her.”

Chakra coils aren’t built to be stressed in such quick succession; they’re built to move energy, sure, and sometimes _lots_ of it, but chakra coils have capacities, and Riku’s capacity for anything chakra-related is low. To keep shoving chakra through, over and over, when he was also hurt and disoriented and, it turns out, mildly concussed?

According to Tsuru, the Mist medic-nin was worried Riku would never use chakra again. (And, by implication, that there would be retribution, either from Konoha at large or Kakashi specifically.) But about eight hours ago, Riku transitioned into normal sleep-patterns and his chakra system returned, in small, sputtering gasps, to normal.

“Since then, you’ve just been lazy,” Tsuru finishes. “I mean, eight hours. Who even sleeps for eight hours? You weren’t _really_ hurt.” And she’s joking, but Riku isn’t when he echoes her words to himself.

“Are you doing okay?” he asks, instead of voicing anything in his head.

“Who, me?” She gestures to herself, freshly clothed and newly padded for battle. “Yeah, they patched me up real quick. Unlike _you_, I’m a great patient.”

Tsuru, like all medics, is a horrid patient. Medical students draw lots for who has to deal with injured or sick medics. Half of them just want to treat themselves and get out (and you can’t let them), the other half will judge everything you do, either silently or at volume.

Once, Tsuru went home and came back with a broken ankle from playing with her siblings; Riku and Mariko both, by mutual design, took missions outside the hospital for a couple weeks so they wouldn’t have to deal with the worst of it. Tsuru’s judgmental looks were bad enough, but worse was when she questioned every little instruction and implied (or, when her pain spiked or she was just bored out of her skull, yelled) the medics were doing everything wrong and she knew better.

Mariko getting sick or injured is the stuff of Riku’s nightmares. Viruses are too afraid of Miss Honda to dare infect her, and Anzu, for all that she’s nice when she’s well, is one of the silent-judging types.

“Sure,” is all Riku says to that.

///

While they watch their competition, Riku and the girls swap stories under their breath: what they know about the opponents who have made it this far, what they’ve figured out, what they’ve noticed. Hiding a limp from an ANBU is futile, and medics are almost as sharp. They _treat_ ANBU, after all.

“Well, we’ll do our best,” Tsuru says, looking resigned.

Mariko hums, but when Tsuru and Riku look at her, she doesn’t speak for a long few seconds. Instead, she stares off into the distance, putting her thoughts in order. “When I competed in Rock, they told us the matchups were random, but most of the foreign ninja were in one bracket. If that’s standard, we might have to fight each other before we get to anyone else.”

“Huh.” Riku looks at Tsuru. “You competed before too, right?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, but we didn’t make it to the Finals, so don’t look at _me_ for answers.”

“There’s no use in speculating.” Mariko stretches her hands, brass knuckles catching the light. “If we fight each other, then we fight each other. If we don’t, we don’t. The point is to get through the elimination round if we can, then do as well as possible in the Finals. Of course,” and here she makes a sour face, “even _that’s_ pointless if the Hokage chooses not to come watch, but at least Miss Kurenai will report back. We could earn a promotion through commendation, still.”

“Wait, back up, what do you mean it’s pointless without Tsunade?”

Mariko gives Riku a look heavy with condemnation for using the Hokage’s name, but it’s a habit he’s unlikely to break and they’ve already had that fight. (Riku calls her Ma’am to her face; that ought to be good enough.) She sighs and leans in. “Look. It’s kind of _not talked about_, but I figured it out when I got back from my first Exams. It isn’t about winning—only one person can win, but we have way too many chuunin for that to be the _only_ way to pass, especially since there’s basically only two Exams a year.”

Riku opens his mouth to correct her—there’s only two Exams in each _allied group_ a year, approximately, but with the extensive network of treaties after the Third Ninja War, any team is free to compete in any Exams, so it works out to closer to _four_ a year, give or take—but Tsuru elbows him sharply and ignores his indignant look.

Mariko’s lips twitch, not quite a smile at his pain, and she goes on: “So it isn’t winning that earns you the promotion, it’s _proving yourself_. To the Kage, specifically, and the daimyo maybe, since they’re always invited as honored guests. After the last match, the Kage will go off to have a conference, and then they announce the promotions. In Rock, they did it publicly, but I think usually Konoha does it privately.”

Riku nods along with her explanation. It checks out. Hyuuga Hinata and Nara Shikamaru _lost_ their fights, but now they’re both chuunin. In fact, if Riku remembers correctly—and that day is rather indelible, the memory of his key in his hand and the thick smell of blood, death pressing in all around him for the first time in his life—neither of them had more than a single match. That was all it took for them to prove themselves.

Tsuru nods. “If our Kage isn’t here…”

“Who in Mist will pick one of us?”

“Well, _that’s_ great. Any idea whether the Hokage will come?” Both Mariko and Tsuru stare at Riku, long enough to be creepy. “What?”

“Riku,” Tsuru says, tone laden with disbelief, “_you’re_ the one who calls her by her first name and gets top-secret infiltration missions from her. How would _we_ know if _you_ don’t?”

He flushes, but before he can move through embarrassment to irritation, Mariko says, slowly and thoughtfully, “If at least one of us makes it through the elimination, it’s pretty likely she will, I think.” At Tsuru and Riku’s wide-eyed expressions, she adds, “I mean, it’s just a _guess_, I don’t actually know. But there’s a new Mizukage, and they’re both women. I don’t know.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Tsuru reassures her. “That makes sense. So, all we have to do is make it through the elimination round, and then one of us is bound to move up to chuunin?”

“As long as we impress her,” Riku says, and both the girls nod grimly at that.

///

They have time to prepare, at least: their bracket is announced last, all the “random” matches in a list on a marquee hanging far enough above the arena to be theoretically safe from the competitors. Mariko’s the first one of them up, against the young woman from Cloud they met in the first phase, followed by Tsuru against Kimimaro. After that, Yukiko and Karin will fight, and Riku will take the last match against another of the Cloud-nin.

A little obvious, if Mist is trying to hide their attempts to get the foreign ninja to knock each other out of the competition.

“Well,” Tsuru says with forced cheerfulness, “any tips, Riku?”

Riku makes a face. “He’s got an autoimmune problem with his bones, because he has some kind of bloodline ability that involves pulling them out and using them.” Both the girls turn horrified expressions on him; he shrugs. “Yeah. Unfortunately, it looks like his health’s fine; I don’t think you can count on him stopping to cough up blood and giving you an opening.”

With a sigh, Tsuru says, “So much for that plan,” followed by, “but his ability is definitely physical?”

“As far as I know, yeah.”

“Alright. Wish me luck.”

They do, but it doesn’t matter.

///

The Cloud-nin—Kaede, Riku reminds himself, only knowing it because the referee grudgingly announces names at the start of each match—doesn’t just have a whip; she has a whip she can channel _lightning chakra_ through. She’s also come dressed for battle, in a tight shirt and leggings, padding on her arms and calves, no loose frills or buckles anywhere on her. She keeps Mariko at a distance handily. Riku and Tsuru, leaned over the railing and muttering predictions to one another, go back and forth on whether Mariko, with her brass knuckles, even stands a chance.

Tsuru has faith in their teammate, while Riku eyes the range discrepancy and shakes his head. “If she could get close, I’d say maybe, but as long as that whip’s there, it’s just a matter of time.”

Mariko is good enough to mostly avoid getting hit, but Kaede pauses in her whip strikes occasionally to toss knives and throwing stars at Mariko. Most miss, but a few make contact, make Mariko wince and stumble and bleed.

“At least there’s no poison,” Tsuru comments, even as Mariko pulls out her own, _definitely_ poisoned knives.

Mariko’s aim is better than Riku’s, but _how much_ better, he isn’t sure. Her first volley misses entirely, and Kaede outright laughs, throwing out some snide comments about Konoha and its ninja that are frankly uncalled for.

Riku narrows his eyes, glancing over at the other two Cloud-nin. They both look hideously uncomfortable, the younger one (No-something?) with an air of “she’s not with me,” the older more resigned. He’s still disheveled after winning his own match just before this, although fit enough to be here in the gallery overlooking combat and not in the medical wing.

(_His_ sword lit on fire, and it’s the most glorious thing Riku’s ever seen. Riku _wants that._ If he believed in Santa Claus, he’d ask for it for Christmas, but he’ll have to settle for begging Kakashi.)

Neither of Kaede’s teammates say anything about her commentary, and while Riku glares judgmentally at them, Tsuru calls down, “Mariko! Show her what Leaf-nin are made of!”

Mariko ignores her, throwing another brace of knives that again miss their mark, though they get closer.

Kaede snaps, lunges forward. Her whip cracks right into the space Mariko was a moment ago. Mariko, on the other hand, lands on her feet halfway across the room, aiming a third volley at Kaede’s back.

This time is different; instead of giving the Cloud-nin time to respond, Mariko tosses a handful of throwing stars immediately after the knives. Kaede, lured into a pattern by the first two throws, scrambles to avoid the stars. One scrapes her exposed right arm, while another embeds into her shin.

Tsuru and Riku cheer, which is a giveaway, but whatever. Kaede levels a superior look at all three of them, plucks the star out of the padding on her leg with her bare fingers, frowns at the oily substance on it.

Mariko smirks and raises one hand, wiggling her own gloved fingers.

Riku has never pinned Mariko down on _what_, exactly, she coats her weapons with. Contact poison comes in a lot of different varieties—Mariko calls them _flavors_, because she is at heart a lot closer to T&I than she will ever admit—and Mariko refuses to use them in sparring matches.

_Fast-onset paralysis_ seems to be one effect, based on Kaede’s abrupt crumpling to the ground. Riku wouldn’t put it past Mariko to have included others, but all the throwing stars could have the same coating.

Mariko steps over to the prone Cloud-nin and delicately picks up the whip by its handle. Then, after a pause, she turns to the proctor and says, “There are some very negative side-effects to this poison if she doesn’t get treatment immediately.” At the proctor’s skeptical look, she explains, “Including muscle paralysis and asphyxiation,” right as Kaede starts choking.

The Cloud jounin doesn’t leap down, but the teammates do. The older one, laying a hand on his sheathed sword, tells the proctor, “Our teammate surrenders,” as the other one scoops the paralyzed woman up.

The proctor looks _pissed_. “Removing a combatant before the match is called will get you disqualified! Leave the combat area this instant!”

Mariko carefully sets the whip down, _away_ from everybody, and walks over to the group. “If she’s given up, I have the antidote.”

Both Cloud-nin turn to her, ignoring the proctor. “You do?” the blond one asks.

Mariko plants her hands on her hips, expression fierce. “What kind of medic-nin would use a poison she can’t fix? What if I accidentally exposed _myself_ to it? Of course I have the antidote. I’ll administer it as soon as the match is called.”

“Call it,” both Cloud-nin tell the proctor.

It’s clear he doesn’t want to, and maybe he wouldn’t, except then the Cloud jounin steps in. She looks like the older, more competent, female version of the blond genin, although where his face is starting to go red, hers is utterly impassive.

“Kaede forfeits the match,” she says, low and dangerous, like she’s daring the proctor to contradict her. Then she turns to Mariko. “Administer the antidote.”

Instead, Mariko looks at the proctor.

From up in the gallery, even Riku can feel the jounin’s killing intent. Whether it’s directed at Mariko or the proctor, it has the desired effect. The proctor gives in, declares Mariko the winner, and then Mariko pulls out a syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid.

Tsuru, never a fan of needles, turns her back on the scene. Riku isn’t as squeamish, but no one else even approaches the satisfaction-edging-into-glee he can read on Mariko’s face, even from this distance. (It’s the smile, especially because Mariko doesn’t smile all that often. Successfully making and using poisons is like praise from an authority figure for her. It’s distressing to watch, so Riku doesn’t blame Tsuru one bit for looking away.)

Once the Cloud-nin have all vacated the fighting arena, Mariko joins Riku up in the gallery while Tsuru hops down, already grimacing.

“I think Mist has some bullshit rules about forfeits,” Mariko says. “All the other losers had to be beat within an inch of their lives, too.”

Riku’s fists clench without any input from his brain. He has to consciously even out his breathing to relax them. “Yeah. Be ready to jump in like Cloud did.”

Given they’ll only need to if Tsuru’s in danger of dying, there’s really no incentive _not_ to. Even if it means they’ll be disqualified—which, if the Cloud team isn’t also disqualified, they’ll be able to protest.

The politics of it all are beyond Riku, but he knows precedent when he sees it. If Cloud got away with something, they’ll be able to as well. And, anyway, it isn’t like anyone will be surprised if the Leaf-nin intercede on their teammate’s behalf. They have a reputation to uphold.

Kimimaro’s fight with Tsuru is quick, efficient, and brutal: as a knife-fighter facing someone who can _pull his bones out of his body to stab her with_, Tsuru is at a disadvantage. The problem is, she clearly doesn’t realize that.

Riku hasn’t trained with her, but Tenten taught him almost everything he knows about fighting (what he didn’t learn from Gai), and Tsuru spent the last few months working with Tenten while Riku was infiltrating an enemy stronghold and avoiding visiting his mom and childhood friends. He doesn’t know Tsuru’s fighting style inside and out, but he knows it well enough to see what she’s going for, what she thinks are openings.

It’s a logical conclusion, he supposes: if Kimimaro has pulled his ulna out and somehow stretched it, that must mean his arm _doesn’t have that bone_. But Riku’s run his chakra through that body, and he knows very well that isn’t how Kimimaro’s ability works. Instead, it’s more like…his body repurposes that material however he wants it to, leaving the existing structure weakened but intact. And Riku wouldn’t assume the _ulna_ has been weakened—if he were Kimimaro, he’d move density from something he’s not using so much.

(Well, no. As a medic-nin and Gai’s student, _Riku_ wouldn’t do that, because Gai would absolutely notice and target the newly vulnerable spot, no matter how cleverly Riku tried to pick it. And there’s no such thing as a completely useless bone—everything in the body is part of some system, has some role to play. Steal the density from the bones in your little toe, and someone like Maito Gai will notice the change in your balance and use it to knock you on your behind. Riku eats dirt often enough in training without that stunt, thanks.)

He can’t shout all that out to Tsuru, though, and instead has to watch, shoulders tense and fists clenched around the stadium railing, as she feints and lunges.

It becomes a problem of range. Tsuru’s knife is eight inches long, wickedly sharp. If she can put it into Kimimaro’s torso, he’s done, probably dead. If she can put it into his arm, that arm is out for at least this fight. But she can’t, because Kimimaro’s bone-sword is more than twice the length of her knife. He doesn’t let her close.

Kimimaro’s stab is brilliantly placed; Riku would have a tough time matching it. A torso wound is not so much _nonlethal_ as _not instantly fatal_, but this one avoids the major problem areas. Kimimaro pulls his sword out smoothly, dark with blood and gore and somehow more obscene because of how white it had been sliding in.

His expression doesn’t change. Tsuru makes a small, wounded noise, unbearably loud in the giant, echoing room.

She drops to her knees, hands at the wound; from this distance, Riku can’t see the blood flow staunch, but he knows how he would handle that kind of damage. Kimimaro lays the flat of the blade at her shoulder, like a mockery of a knighting ceremony, and asks in a flat, even tone, “Do you surrender?”

For a single, terrifying moment, Riku thinks she’ll say _no_.

(If it were him down there…)

But Tsuru isn’t stupid. She says “yes” almost too quietly for the spectators to hear. The proctor looks belligerent, mouth open with a sour expression, as if Tsuru’s blood and guts need to spill out of her before he’ll accept her forfeit.

Before Riku and Mariko can storm down and rain holy wrath down on the proctor, Miss Kurenai leaps into the arena and calls for medics, a stretcher. The look on her face is fierce and implacable for the first time in Riku’s experience, and _this_ is the woman who trained one of the only two genin promoted at the last Exams. _This_ is the woman who faced Sasuke’s family-murdering brother (plus accomplice) and walked away partially skinned but alive, the first of the jounin teachers to leave the hospital.

The proctor backs down, declares Kimimaro the victor.

Miss Kurenai doesn’t congratulate Kimimaro on his victory—doesn’t even acknowledge him, all her attention focused on the medics escorting Tsuru out of the room. Mariko and Riku follow; the next match is Karin and Yukiko, and Riku’s team takes precedence over scouting out the competition, especially competition he helped to train.

Down an industrial-looking hall lie several sets of double-doors, the first of which are open, behind them a respectable enough clinic. The Cloud-nin have claimed the nearest bed, jounin leaning against the wall next to its head while each of the young men stand guard on either side, the blonde one’s back to the door as Riku follows his own team in. The medics carefully move Tsuru onto the far bed, one beginning the Mystical Palm Technique while the other flashes through hand-seals for an in-depth scanning jutsu, then lays their hands on Tsuru’s forehead.

Riku and Mariko exchange glances out of the corners of their eyes, the look of two beginners who can’t do much better themselves but have _seen_ better technique from their teachers. Hypercritical. Worried.

The medics get Tsuru’s wound closed, the skin scarring over without a scab, shiny and pink. After a pause, the medic scanning Tsuru backs away, pronouncing her in need of sleep but otherwise stable.

Mariko quizzes the unfortunate medic on the state of Tsuru’s guts; Riku, leaving her to it, grabs a nearby chair and drags it over to sit beside Tsuru, taking her hand. He doesn’t bother scanning her, in part because he has his own match coming up and needs to conserve chakra, in part because he trusts Mariko to verify that the medics have done all they could for Tsuru. If he needs to heal her, he’d prefer to take her back to the embassy and just _heal_ her, in the best way he knows how.

Contact is important, though. So Riku holds Tsuru’s hand, and when Mariko’s done interrogating the medic, she stands beside him silently, like a bodyguard. A wall between their teammate and the rest of the world.

(Sora had screamed when Riku hurt him, but Tsuru hadn’t, had just made a hurt sound that would have been too quiet to hear except for how silent the room was, then. She smells all bloody, though, just like Sora did, and looks just as pale on the bed, especially with her dark hair fanned out around her head.)

They sit for a while, until Miss Kurenai comes back and tells Riku his match is up next. And. Part of Riku wants to stay here, say no, say he’s not cut out for this. That part of him wants to ask if there are any forms that would let him leave Konoha, all nice and official, nothing like Sakura and Sasuke. Nothing like…

He can’t do that.

He just wants to. A little.

Instead, he heaves himself up, lays Tsuru’s hand carefully over her midsection, too high to brush against the wound. Remembers Chouji in a similar bed and swallows down bile. Mariko threatened to kill the Cloud-nin, but the difference is that Gaara and Kimimaro almost _succeeded_.

Mariko’s going to move on, though; if Riku drops out, he’ll be leaving her alone in the competition. And for what? Tsuru won’t thank him for it. (His mom might.)

If he gives up now, all he’ll protect is himself. He can’t do that.

///

Riku’s opponent is Takeuchi Noboru, one of the Cloud-nin from the first phase of the Exams. He’s skinny, half a foot taller than Riku and built rangy, lean muscle and not much of it, with a sword in his right hand and a knife in his left. Riku has his staff, and while he’s practiced some drills with Tenten demonstrating how other weapons compare, he hasn’t done any extensive prep for this. The sword is one-handed, at least, and not very long, so if Riku controls the range, he should be fine.

When the proctor begins the match, Noboru surprises him by bowing, very formal. Riku blinks at him, then returns it, half-expecting an attack.

Nope. No attack, no trick. Both rise, and then Noboru takes a defensive stance, middle guard with his sword, knife held ready to take advantage of any openings.

Riku’s job is to not give him any.

The knife is big enough that it isn’t primarily a projectile, although Riku knows better than to take that for granted. (Tenten has demonstrated how she can throw her sword and hit any target she wants, right before forbidding Riku from ever doing the same, because throwing your primary or secondary melee weapon is _stupid_ and leaves you open, and it’s your own fault if the enemy stabs your guts out because you didn’t have anything to stop them with.)

Riku holds his staff at the ready as well, and the two of them circle. Riku watches Noboru’s footwork—Gai always, _always_ drills footwork, claims anyone skilled with taijutsu can read their opponent’s moves from the feet alone.

Noboru’s stance is solid as he moves, but there are flaws, maybe real, maybe fake. He leans too far back when he needs to be on the balls of his feet, stays on the balls of his feet when he really ought to be more grounded. Tenten or Lee could sweep him like _that_; Neji wouldn’t even bother with his Gentle Fist moves.

Riku isn’t anywhere near their level, though, so he files the observation away and doesn’t act on it yet. Instead, he doubles back, circling in the opposite direction, and watches how Noboru reacts.

A stutter of movement, a long hesitation and then rapid shuffling to keep the distance between them equal. Noboru’s feet move confidently, but his head jerks a bit, eyes flickering all over the arena.

Riku raises his own eyebrows, lets a smirk creep over his face, and watches Noboru’s pupils dilate, his breathing speed up. Adrenaline rush, and all it took was one expression.

This guy must _really_ think Riku knows what he’s doing. Riku would call his performance so far “lackluster,” especially compared to this guy’s own teammates, but then, both look older than Noboru, who may be older than Riku but certainly isn’t coming across as _seasoned_.

As the youngest on his own team, Riku can sympathize. It’s intimidating, to look at your teammates and realize they just _know more stuff_ than you do. Riku makes up for it by being the best of his team in his own skill set, but Noboru hasn’t figured out that trick yet.

Idly, Riku spins his staff over his shoulders, ending with it on the opposite side. Tenten would berate him for doing it in the middle of a fight, but it _looks_ cool and Noboru’s nowhere near him. His right hand is dominant, but Tenten gave him bruised knuckles for _weeks_ until he figured out how to hold the staff with his hands in any position and guard just as well. (According to her, that’s the start of becoming ambidextrous—practicing so much with your off-hand that it becomes just as good. She offered to tie his right arm behind his back instead, but that would’ve meant postponing staff training, so they shelved the idea until Riku’s proficient with one major weapon.)

He catches Noboru’s expression, the way his eyes don’t just track the staff’s movement but stay focused on Riku’s hands. He’s waiting for the trick, the moment Riku palms a knife and flings it or slips a hand-seal in and launches an attack. When Riku just settles the staff back into a guard position, Noboru stays tense, watchful.

Cool. Riku instantly dismisses half the feints he knows, since they won’t work on someone paying this close attention. Psyching the guy out is still fair game, though. “You’re not still upset about the game, right? I mean, your team made it, even if you all lost.”

Noboru’s eyes flash, narrow, his jaw clenching visibly even from Riku’s careful distance. Either Riku scored a direct hit on a sore point or else this kid’s never been bullied, to show a vulnerability that easily.

“Cloud doesn’t need any advantages,” he says, and lunges forward, an empty threat.

Riku knocks his sword aside well before Noboru’s close to him. Noboru keeps his feet under him, regroups, and circles again, that much closer and looking for openings now. Angry, and starting to boil with it, energy caught just under his skin.

Knowing how that feels makes Riku sympathetic, and that much better at making it worse. “Besides the ones you steal from other villages, you mean.”

Another lunge, another deflection, and this time Noboru’s overextended and Riku punishes him for it with a smack to his ribs, retreating before the flash of knife that follows. They measure each other up, evaluating defensive positions and how much room they have between them, between themselves and the walls. Riku’s now in the center of the room, enough space to maneuver freely, to flip himself up and out of the way of attacks, to dodge or duck or line up his own strikes, even with as much room as his staff needs.

Noboru isn’t close enough to the walls for it to be a pressing concern, but Riku can push him back into one or the other in two or three more exchanges. Especially if he can keep Noboru angry and not thinking.

There isn’t room for niceness in the Chuunin Exams, and Riku spent all his in the last phase. It landed him on his own hospital bed, with anxious teammates waiting for him to wake up. He doesn’t have any more to spare for his opponent now.

This time, Riku steps closer. One of the best advantages of a staff, going up against a sword, is the control it gives Riku. Noboru is in _his_ range long before he’s in Noboru’s, jabbing his staff into the meat of the boy’s shoulder snake-quick, before his guard can come up, before he can even flinch.

That isn’t a jutsu, just hours and hours of training every day with Gai and Tenten.

Riku retreats, blocks the return swing, and lets Noboru in close enough that he thinks his knife will do anything. Riku shifts his grip on the staff, bringing the butt up to block Noboru’s knife even as his sword slides off to the side without resistance to hold it where it was. Then, with the front half of the staff behind his shoulder and his hands close to the other end, Riku takes a swing, putting his whole body’s worth of leverage and momentum into it.

Riku’s staff slams into Noboru’s shoulder with a solid sound, knocking him back and off his feet. His sword drops to the floor, leaving him with just his knife.

The force of the blow goes both ways, but Riku’s ready for that; Tenten would never have approved him using a staff if connecting with his targets made him drop it. He’s solid, grounded, and not about to lose his grip for something like that.

To his credit, Noboru recovers quickly, snatches up his sword before Riku can even pretend to steal it and bounces to his feet. He doesn’t immediately lunge again, instead feinting a few times, trying to get Riku to over-commit. The problem is, Riku _still_ has more range than Noboru, and more versatility. The one time Riku thinks Noboru’s serious about a high strike, Riku steps into it, staff up where his head would be, hands a third of the way from either end.

It’s a powerful block, but Riku doesn’t meet real force, and sure enough, Noboru tries to duck in with his knife. Riku shifts his left hand down, now-vertical staff knocking Noboru’s knife-hand away while Riku steps to the left. From there, he brings the higher end of the staff down on Noboru’s head—he feels bad about that, really, because head injuries are serious and who knows how many concussions this kid has already had, but there isn’t enough momentum for the blow by itself to do more than stun. Riku follows that up with a leg sweep from the right.

Wood hits shin with a _thwack_, but Noboru stays on his feet.

When he retreats, he’s limping. That isn’t faked—Riku didn’t feel any concealed armor underneath his clothes, and it was a solid hit. Riku’s earned enough of those from Tenten to know it’ll ache and bruise beautifully for a week or two.

Tenten has talked about breaking bones with sturdier staffs, but Riku’s is too light—and, honestly, Riku is too inexperienced—for that to be a concern. Still, Noboru now favors his left leg, and that’s going to impact his footwork, which will reduce the power of his moves, both offensive and defensive.

Not to mention his reduced mobility.

On top of that, his right arm’s not limp, quite, but every so often he pauses to stretch it out or shake it and makes a face. Riku would guess bruises there, too, and already aching. Limited range of motion, or limited force on strikes. If he favors either injury too badly, Riku can take advantage and target them, see if he flinches and opens himself up or if he takes the hit and the cumulative damage.

Riku circles, keeping his staff at the ready. He stabs at Noboru a few times, lets the young man knock those away without investing much in them. It gives him the opportunity to gauge Noboru’s reactions, to watch as he decides on his next move. Theoretically, Riku should move first, seize the advantage and keep it.

Partly, he’s just enjoying the fight. It isn’t often that he can fight someone new, and it’s exciting. Partly, he’s a little worried that pressing forward now will make Noboru panic—panicky people tend to be unpredictable, and Riku isn’t so much more skilled than he can use that.

(Panicking and flailing wildly in fights with Tenten or Gai is a terrific way to eat dirt.)

Noboru forces his stance more solid, despite the pain in his leg; Riku cautiously raises his staff into a middle guard position, watching Noboru’s whole body.

It looks like Noboru weighs his knife, as if considering throwing it, and then decides better. Instead, he sheathes it—Riku shifts slightly, anticipating him pulling out something more projectile—and then Noboru sheathes his sword.

Riku darts in, staff cutting through the air where Noboru’s head was a second ago. Body-flicker is _Riku’s_ party trick.

Scanning the room shows that Noboru’s crossed clear to the other side; he could have just gotten behind Riku, but that would leave the problem of what to do once he got there. With that much distance, though, he’s _got_ to be planning to use jutsu.

The problem is, Riku can’t compete against jutsu—not _really_. He could feint using a shadow clone, but that’s about it. He can _heal people_, but his offensive repertoire is…limited.

“Body flicker and substitution jutsu” limited. Well. And clones. And the illusion jutsu—the Academy-standard one and Naruto’s version. For all the good those do him.

Considering his options, he can either hang onto his staff and try to dodge whatever Noboru’s about to throw at him, or he can drop it, body flicker his way through a jutsu fight, and come back for the staff later.

Dropping the staff, Riku flashes through the Tiger seal while Noboru finishes on the Snake seal.

Snake is usually…water? No, wait. Earth. Or something else, not water. Riku doesn’t have time to remember, because body flickering doesn’t pause time so much as it speeds the user up, and so Noboru’s flash of—oh, right, _lightning_, that’s it—still moves toward Riku.

Well. Toward where Riku was. Just like Riku’s staff whistled through empty air, the arc of lightning crashes through to the opposite wall, leaving a scorch mark while Riku rolls to the side, unharmed and unshaken.

(…A little shaken, because that could have _murdered him_ if it connected, and Miss Kurenai couldn’t do a single thing about it.)

(Chouji in the hospital bed, and Ino, Shikamaru, Sakura, all treating it like an unfortunate match-up and not an aberration. The realization that sometimes _children murder other children_ in these Exams, and none of the adults see a problem with that, provided the murderer didn’t break any rules while doing it.)

(Gaara at least had been obviously unstable. Noboru, Riku never would’ve pegged as murderous, but then, this could be the consequence of Riku pushing him. Corner anybody and they’ll snap.)

(Okay. More than a little shaken.)

After Noboru registers his new position but before the next ninjutsu can connect, Riku flees that spot for another, diagonal from the last and slightly closer to Noboru. Another lightning arc, another scorched wall. Riku does that a few times, advancing without making it obvious, and logs Noboru’s jutsu: besides the lightning one, he has a water blast that makes Riku revise his next landing and a spike of earth that collapses into dirt on the floor once it misses.

Three different elements, but the water and earth jutsu are noticeably less powerful and less precise. Riku dodges it all, weighing his options.

He _could_ wait this guy out. Noboru is using what must be high-chakra jutsu; Riku’s developed his body flicker technique down to an absolutely _minuscule_ amount of chakra (and body flicker isn’t really a costly technique to begin with), so even with Riku’s terrible reserves, Noboru will hit rock bottom before Riku does. The main problem: Riku will need to dodge _everything_. He’ll need to play defense, exhaust Noboru, sweep in once the guy is done, stick a fork in him. Declare victory.

If even one technique hits, Riku could very well not recover, especially if it’s that lightning jutsu. And with water on the floor, “hit” doesn’t necessarily mean _bodily connect with_. Riku can’t misjudge or mistime any dodges.

Also, it’ll be boring, but that’s more of a tertiary concern.

Riku moves again, this time getting out of the way of the earth spike (both it and the lightning jutsu end in the Snake seal, so unless Riku watches the whole string, he can’t know which it’ll be until it’s too late) and considering the mixed offense-defense approach.

Pros: end the match faster, less boring, less risk of injury to Riku.

Cons: could be ineffective, riskier in terms of _winning_.

Riku needs more information. He flickers to about the halfway point between where he started and his actual destination, tosses a brace of knives at Noboru, and finishes the flicker. Noboru dodges out of the way and returns fire with knives of his own, which is honestly more pathetic than his earlier strategy of hiding on the far side of the room and trying to pick Riku off with ninja magic.

After dodging knives while running _suicides_, _without_ the ability to use chakra, Riku isn’t about to let any of these hit. He deflects one mostly to throw Noboru off—and, sure enough, the next lightning strikes where that sound came from, while Riku tosses some knives at Noboru from the other side of the room.

One of these hits, and Riku takes advantage of Noboru’s instant panic response to use the substitution jutsu on one of the fallen knives, appearing directly into Noboru’s space. By then, the guy has recovered a little—at least, he’s realized the knife wasn’t poisoned when it cut into his bicep—and Riku throws the best forward strike of his life into Noboru’s good shoulder before the boy can pull out his sword.

He scrambles out of the way, tugging sword from sheath while Riku kicks out the knee of his good leg. _That_ sends Noboru crashing to one knee, sword out in time to block the knife that Riku’s slid out of his pouch and aimed in a downward slice at Noboru’s face. Metal rings against metal.

Riku would have pulled the blow if he’d thought for a second Noboru wouldn’t block. He isn’t here to carve anyone up, to disfigure or kill someone for the bad taste of trying to lightning-fry him. Then again, Noboru launched a vicious lightning jutsu; it’s possible he thinks Riku’s just as bad.

The angle is bad for Noboru’s block. His other hand flops uselessly at his side, probably numb from the shoulder down, bleeding from the cut. After a moment of thought, Riku pushes Noboru’s sword down and to the floor.

And then he reaches into his _other_ pouch, pulling out one of Mariko’s little gift knives. He holds it so Noboru can see the coating and says, “_I_ don’t carry the antidote with me. Poison isn’t my thing.”

Noboru’s eyes fly up to the stands, but of course Mariko isn’t there. She’s in the medical wing with Tsuru, and Noboru was there with his own teammate. Riku watches the realization settle on his face, muscles slackening in horror, eyes wide and lips parted and all his attention squarely on Riku now.

“I’m not that good at healing poisons, either,” Riku says helpfully.

“I give up!” Noboru releases his grip on his sword, lets it fall the last inch from where the clone had it pushed down. The clang of metal on concrete flooring is muted. Noboru raises his empty hands, keeps them separate. “You win!”

Riku glances at the proctor, but it looks like the man’s given up on his quest to see teenagers gut each other or whatever. He waves and declares Riku the winner of the last match of the elimination round.

While Riku’s sure that most ninja, like Kakashi, Gai, Iruka, and Miss Kurenai, see kids hurting one another as an unfortunate necessity, it seems like others really _want_ genin to fight to the death.

Well, it used to be the Bloody Mist. That history might not be as buried as everyone has implied. Riku and his clone collect his scattered weaponry, and a few Cloud-style knives as well, which he takes over to Noboru while the young man’s single victorious teammate tries to cheer him up by reminding him there will be other Exams.

“The next Exams are going to be those joint ones,” Noboru says glumly. “Between Suna _and Konoha_. You think Kaede and I can get past a whole _platoon_ of Leaf-nin? We couldn’t even beat _two_!”

He jumps when Riku drops his knives nearby. Both Cloud genin turn to look at Riku, varying levels of hostility in their expressions.

There are things Riku could say—reassurances he’s saving for Tsuru, for instance, or acknowledgment of what Noboru did well. But Riku isn’t really a nice person and he isn’t feeling all that charitable, so he just says, “Good match. Better luck next time,” and body-flickers all the way to the clinic room before any of them can react.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it isn't a cliffhanger or an ominous note! :D We are now squarely through Phase 2 of the Exams, and onto a month for recuperation/training and then Phase 3!
> 
> Next update will be **next weekend, November 2-3**. Also, since it's coming up, I'll be writing the KH1 fic for NaNo. (Last time, I did _take violent things_ and used like...5% of what I wrote, total, so fingers crossed this is more productive!)


	7. respite ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 1 of the Downtime/Training Month features: genjutsu practice, strategizing, and snooping around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content notes:** offhand references to torture being fairly commonplace and considered acceptable and effective by ninja. Kurenai flat-out refuses to teach any of the kids how to use genjutsu that way (for...not the best reasons, but she does refuse).
> 
> Also, on a lighter note, there is hover-text for a Japanese term that Riku reads and doesn't recognize. :)

By the time Tsuru is conscious and mobile, it’s late afternoon edging into evening, and Miss Kurenai escorts them to the hall all their bedrooms are on before she tells them to meet her at five in the main meeting room.

“Which one is that?” Riku asks the girls once Miss Kurenai leaves.

“The big one,” Mariko says, at the same time that Tsuru says, “The ugly one.” Mariko makes a face at Tsuru, but inclines her head, so it _must_ be ugly.

Riku and Mariko see Tsuru settled into her bed—neither are any good at bedside manner, but they can try, and for all her fussing, Tsuru appreciates it—and then split up.

Riku goes looking for a big, ugly meeting room. The embassy is four floors plus a basement, with a chuunin posted at the front desk and a couple of jounin at the stairs to prevent any Mist-nin or citizens from going up or down. The office Miss Kurenai called Riku into after the first phase of the Exams is in the basement, and in addition to a plethora of locks, the door to those stairs is camouflaged by a wall-hanging, leaving Riku to wonder how many other hidden hallways or doors lurk behind fabric.

(If Sora or Kairi were here, they’d have a grand adventure investigating the mystery and coming up with all sorts of stories for why people would have hidden this door or that staircase.)

The Finals won’t be for another month. Riku resolves to spend at least a couple of days poking around, just so he can share his findings with Sora and Kairi, even if he doesn’t find anything.

The highest floor houses the library and several storage and utility rooms, all noncritical. Riku finds a washer and dryer, a few closets full of bedsheets and other linens, rooms full of spare clothes in varying levels of formality.

The third floor has all the bedrooms, and a grand total of two windows, both thickly paned and latticed with metal. Weapons storage is also on that floor, along with the communal kitchen that Riku and his team share with the embassy employees.

Riku’s visits to the second floor have so far been limited to the training room, but he finds that there are also several big meeting rooms. None of them strike him as especially ugly until he opens the last set of nondescript double-doors.

The whole space is eaten up by an oversized, rectangular mahogany table, easily thick and wide enough to spar on top of, with over a dozen uncomfortable chairs spaced unevenly around it. Riku can imagine politicians meeting here, the ambassador he’s never met along with Tsunade and a host of Konoha diplomats on one side, the Mizukage Riku’s only seen in pictures and her own stern-faced, bloodthirsty advisors on the other.

It’s like something out of one of his novels. He tests the table, first by leaning then by sitting and finally by jumping up on it, in his socks because anything else would be too rude and gross.

The table feels absolutely solid. Riku does a backflip and then a front-flip. It doesn’t even squeak or groan.

Then he checks the chairs, and yeah, those are one-hundred-percent awful. The kind of chairs you make people sit in when you don’t like them much, or you want them to sort everything out quickly. Experimentally, Riku slouches in one, and the edges of the back make him regret it, while the seat makes him regret _existing_.

No windows here, either, but there is a vent. Riku investigates it idly, using chakra to stick to the wall and poke at it, but at best he could fit his head inside. It smells like dust when he presses his face up to the grill, peering in, and he doesn’t bother unscrewing the faceplate to get a better look.

Instead, he takes a much-needed shower and eats a much-appreciated dinner before following Tsuru’s lead and getting some sleep.

///

The next morning, Riku wakes up at four so he can get his normal exercise routine in.

“Because your biceps aren’t big enough,” Mariko snarks, bleary-eyed and loose enough from sleepiness to voice her thoughts. They’ve all eaten a dashed-off breakfast, but only Riku looks _awake_.

Tsuru laughs. “Have you _seen_ Mr. Gai? Or his little protege? Riku’s arms are twigs compared to theirs.”

Riku scowls at them both, and then at Miss Kurenai, who isn’t trying very hard to hide her laughter in a cough.

His arms aren’t _twigs_, thank you very much. Overall, he’s pleased with his progress. Sure, he can’t match Gai or Lee, but he’s getting respectably close to Tenten’s musculature.

“Alright, alright. Attention, please.” They all straighten at Miss Kurenai’s words, lining up in front of the table. “We’re going to start small, one-on-one, for fifteen-minute sessions. You’ll rotate who’s casting the genjutsu, who’s under it, and who’s observing. Once you get the hang of it, we’ll work on either stamina for longer sessions or complexity of the genjutsu, depending on your strengths. Any questions so far?”

They shake their heads.

“Good. Now, the rules. I expect you to follow these absolutely. If you break one, that’s it, you’re done. No second chances. Understood?” They nod, and Miss Kurenai stares deeply at each of them in turn, as if she can read their sincerity in their eyes. Is that a thing ninja can do?

Riku tries to project to her how very much he intends to follow her rules, whatever they are. He’s never _directly_ broken a teacher’s rules—not explicit ones, anyway, and nothing so serious as this.

She accepts whatever she sees in his and the girls’ faces. “Rule one: if you feel overwhelmed or upset, for any reason, say so. If someone else says they need to stop, stop the genjutsu. I don’t care what else is going on, you stop that genjutsu _at once_ and stay with your teammate until they’re okay.” A pause. “If I’m not present—and we’ll get to the point where I don’t need to supervise every time—if I’m not present, send someone for me or start shouting.”

Mariko says, “I thought the point of genjutsu was…” She grimaces.

The Intelligence division has tried to convince her to join, Riku remembers, multiple times. Knowing genjutsu will only make her that much more valuable to them, and yet here she is, learning it.

Miss Kurenai nods. “I won’t sugarcoat it. Genjutsu is often used for torture and interrogation. Its success rate is low and its usefulness is debatable, but it _is_ used nonetheless.” Another pause. “If you’re planning to use genjutsu like that, you’ll need to find a different teacher.”

“Because you don’t believe in torture?” Tsuru asks. Riku shoots her a sideways look, equally glad and appalled she voiced the question.

Shaking her head, Miss Kurenai says, “Because using genjutsu like that requires knowing pain intimately; if you don’t have a deep personal knowledge of what you want your target to experience, you won’t be able to inflict it on them. Creativity and imagination can only take you so far.

“Which brings me to rule two: know your limits.” Her eyes focus on Riku and she maintains that eye contact as she continues, “Genjutsu is a precision tool. If you use it as a blunt instrument, you’ll damage yourself _and_ alert your target. Don’t put anything in an illusion that you aren’t sure of. Your target can use any flaws to break the genjutsu, and a shattered genjutsu rebounds on its creator. You do _not_ want that to happen in the middle of a battle.” A beat. “You should also avoid using genjutsu until your chakra is exhausted. If you run out of chakra, the illusion will end abruptly. Even a subtle approach disrupted like that can alert your target, and the last thing you want is someone angry coming after you when you have no chakra to defend yourself.”

Riku bows his head, sure that his face is doing something insubordinate. It looks enough like nodding that Miss Kurenai accepts it. (She hasn’t said anything to him about how he wound up in medical during the second phase of the Exams; he was half-expecting a bunch more paperwork to deal with, but no, nothing has materialized. While they waited for Tsuru to regain consciousness, Mariko offhandedly mentioned filing a report, but she only mentioned it to ask him how fast he can body-flicker in succession. They’d sidetracked into different training methods for increasing stamina and chakra reserves and didn’t return to the subject of reports.

If Miss Kurenai has a problem with what he did while trying to pass a test, she can come right out and say it. Until then, Riku figures it isn’t _his_ problem.)

“Rule three: know your goal before starting your genjutsu. Whether you intend to trick information out of someone or you’re trying to distract them in battle, you should have something specific in mind, and some idea of how your genjutsu will achieve it.” Riku risks a glance up and finds her staring fiercely at them, hands on her hips. “You can’t treat genjutsu like ninjutsu. Too many genin and chuunin think they can just toss it at their opponent and win. That’s a fast way to wind up dead.”

Mariko raises her hand. Miss Kurenai’s fierce look doesn’t diminish, but she sounds amused when she asks, “Yes, Mariko?”

“How is that any different from ninjutsu?” At Miss Kurenai’s grim expression, she hastily adds, “My last jounin-commander always told my team that throwing ninjutsu at the enemy was a waste of chakra and everyone but the enemy’s time. He said that did all their work for them, and we weren’t allowed to use ninjutsu in training unless we could explain why we wanted to.”

Tsuru snorts. “Well, your jounin sounds a lot better than mine. He just showed us how to do different jutsu and told us to spar.”

Mariko looks as horrified as Riku feels. “I owe my uncle an apology,” he says; he’s definitely thought, once or twice, that his uncle’s actions might have—not _caused_, but _contributed_ to two-thirds of his team running off to Orochimaru, and the last third tagging along with one of the most disreputable-looking adults Riku’s ever met.

He’s never said that to Kakashi, because his mom didn’t raise him to kick people when they’re down, but apparently the thought itself was out of line. _Told us to spar_. Leviathan only knows what Sasuke would have done with _that_ kind of teacher.

Run off sooner, probably, and taken Sakura _and_ Naruto with him. Or taken off alone, with no appreciation for teamwork or any of Konoha’s values. Riku wouldn’t even blame him. He’s a little surprised Tsuru didn’t go back to her family’s farm.

She shrugs, though, looking a lot less offended than Riku feels on her behalf. “It wasn’t so bad. My team washed out of the last Chuunin Exams we were in, but I learned how to rely on myself. It’s fine.”

Even Miss Kurenai looks pained at this declaration. “That’s…not a teaching style I would recommend, and it’s unfortunately common, which is why I’m warning you. You _should_ approach every action with thought, as your teacher told you, Mariko,” and Mariko, teacher’s pet that she is, _glows_ with the acknowledgment, “but genjutsu is particularly unforgiving. Ill-used, genjutsu will reveal you and your goals to your enemies and leave you exposed to their vengeance. Used strategically, however, genjutsu can create weaknesses where there were none. You can mislead your target or convince them you were never there. And, yes, it _can_ be used to gain information, when used with thought, care, and creativity.”

“This sounds like a lot more than we can learn in a month,” Riku says.

Miss Kurenai smiles. “Yes. Yes, that’s what mastery of genjutsu can accomplish. For you three, we’ll focus on more manageable goals. You’ll learn how to use it to misdirect your target, to play with their senses and create flaws in their defenses. Genjutsu _can_ be used in battle, and that’s what we’ll go over.

“That brings me to the last rule: use anything and everything.” She waits, lets that sink in. Riku’s confusion is reflected on Tsuru and Mariko’s faces. Miss Kurenai grins. “Use whatever you have around you, anything else you can do, and anything you know about your opponent. With genjutsu, you have two clocks: one runs out when your target realizes they’re in an illusion, and the other is how much chakra you have. Your job, whenever you use genjutsu, is to add as much time as possible to the first clock while keeping the second firmly in mind, because once you run out of time on either, you run the risk of the illusion breaking and your target coming for you.”

It’s Riku’s turn to raise his hand, and when she nods at him, he says, “I know there are ways to break genjutsu, but I’ve never learned them.”

“Hm. Alright, here’s what we’ll do. Riku, you’ll be the first observer; watch both of your teammates in the first session, and, when they finish, I’ll show you how to break a genjutsu from the outside. Tsuru, you’ll be the target for the first session, and Mariko, you’ll cast the first genjutsu. Then, when we rotate, Riku will cast the genjutsu, and I’ll step you all through how to break it from the outside. Everyone understand?”

Mariko wrinkles her nose. “That means he’s going to use it on _me_?” A quick, sideways look, gone too quickly for him to dissect. “Fine.”

Miss Kurenai grins again. “Don’t worry. Once you each get a feel for it, we’ll mix things up. You _can_ develop a level of resistance to certain people’s genjutsu, if you practice with them enough, but it doesn’t transfer to strangers’ genjutsu.”

A beat as she allows them to process that, and then she asks, “Are you ready?” At their agreement, she sends Tsuru out of the room, telling her to wait a minute before coming in. Then she turns to Mariko and says, “You may begin as soon as she walks in. Focus on something small and simple to influence.”

It’s…interesting, watching. Mariko surveys the room and takes position in a far corner, where Tsuru will spot her right away. Miss Kurenai beckons Riku over and the two of them sit down—the chairs really are awful—and he watches her as much as anything else.

Tsuru steps into the room as if the floor is littered with traps waiting to spring. Her eyes dart all over—sure enough, she scrutinizes Mariko as much as the next spot she puts her feet. After considerable pausing, she starts inching around the table toward Mariko like a competitive child playing musical chairs.

Not that Riku has personal experience with that slow crabwalk or anything.

Riku isn’t the greatest at timekeeping, so he’s not sure how much time passes before he realizes what Mariko’s done. He wouldn’t have noticed at all except he _does_ recognize the way Tsuru is moving around the table, and she’s off from where she thinks she is, farther away from the table than her brain is telling her. His best proof for this, beyond the familiarity, is the hand she has out, hovering over the very edge of the table where it will do her little good if she loses her balance and falls. There’s every chance, at that angle, that she’ll either miss the table entirely or slam her hand on the edge painfully and lose her balance anyway.

Tsuru doesn’t make those kinds of mistakes. If her hand’s there, it’s because she thinks that’s a good place for it to be—and if she were a couple inches closer to the table, it would be fine.

Something small and simple to influence—like Tsuru’s perception of the room, of where she is in it—is all Miss Kurenai asked for. With a few seals and a little thought and patience, Mariko could have Tsuru walk into a literal trap, could spring an ambush on her, could run and use Tsuru’s stumbling into obstacles to cover her retreat.

Riku already knew, thanks to Karin’s use of genjutsu, one way to use it in battle. This is another way.

Why ninja don’t _constantly_ use it is beyond Riku. (He gets the drawbacks, but they seem minor. Oh no, you have to think about it first and be careful how you use it, unlike _a fireball jutsu_, which is obviously safe to launch just anywhere. It takes chakra, which sucks for _him_, but someone like Naruto could use it as a giant “I Win” button in most fights, couldn’t they?)

At what must be close to the fifteen-minute mark—please, Leviathan, _make_ it be fifteen minutes already—Mariko pulls out a knife from her pouch. Tsuru is instantly on alert.

Mariko throws. Tsuru dodges. Mariko’s throw was not stellar, so Tsuru didn’t need to dodge, but she does, jerking away from the knife—and into a wall, jarring her elbow and yelping.

Miss Kurenai smiles. “Well. Not the plan, but that’s one way to break a genjutsu: physical pain.” She turns a small frown on Mariko. “Which is one reason why it’s important to have a clear goal in mind. If your target is injured, the genjutsu will break.” Her face darkens. “In most cases, anyway.”

“Then how do they use it for—oh. _Physical_ pain.” Riku can’t contain his grimace.

Nodding, Miss Kurenai says, “Yes. If you suspect someone is under genjutsu, it can sometimes be worthwhile to force them out of it. Even a small injury—enough to cause a bruise, usually—may work, although more complex or powerful genjutsu require a stronger stimulus to break. Pinching or poking will never work.” She gives Riku a moment to digest that, then adds, “It isn’t the best way to remove the genjutsu, though. Dissipating the genjutsu is a simple matter of disrupting your own or someone else’s chakra flow. At the end of this session, I’ll demonstrate on Mariko, if she’s willing?” And Miss Kurenai raises her eyebrows at Mariko, who _of course_ says yes instantly.

Then she leaves the room for a couple minutes, giving Riku time to plan.

Obviously, he needs to have his goal in mind, and he should avoid anything that would hurt her, since she needs to be under the genjutsu for Miss Kurenai to teach him how to get rid of it. He’ll need something she won’t figure out, either, something that serves a purpose…

An old fable springs to mind, and Riku grins. He has no idea if Konoha kids learn the same story, but even so, he doesn’t think Mariko will catch on.

About forty seconds before she’s set to open the door and stroll in, Riku asks Miss Kurenai, “Genjutsu can work with any of the senses, right?”

“Correct,” she says, and Riku rushes through the hand seals for the basic technique that will filter Mariko’s perceptions through Riku’s intention.

Unlike Mariko, he’s not going to be able to keep it going for fifteen minutes straight. Gauging his reserves and how much they’ve already drained, he’s going to be lucky to get two at a time. He’ll have to make them count.

Kirigakure, for all that it’s an island in the ocean just like where Riku grew up, isn’t tropical. Just like Konoha, Kiri is heading into fall, albeit more mildly, and with how overcast and rainy the village has been, all the Leaf-nin dress in layers. Especially in the crisp, early hours after dawn; the few windows in the embassy take half the morning to defrost, and anyone outside before noon will see their breath fog in front of their face as their nose freezes off.

First, he creates a draft of warm air. There are no windows in this room, but there is that vent, and Riku does his best to make the warm air come from that direction. (The last time he took any non-health science was on the Islands, so his knowledge of air systems is lacking. He tries his best.)

Mariko walks around the room, carefully feeling out every step and every surface she comes into contact with, but she doesn’t seem to notice when Riku feeds her brain the sensation of air moving around her. He keeps it light, erratic, so that when he ends it the first time, she won’t notice.

She notices his hand seals when he starts again; her brows furrow and she scans the room, as if looking for changes. Only Riku doesn’t change anything, doesn’t put any chakra into his hands at all.

Tenten would be proud; she’s tried to pound the purpose of feints into him _so many times_.

When Riku shapes the seals a third time, Mariko just rolls her eyes. This time, Riku accompanies the feeling of warm air circulating through the room with an action: he tugs off his own jacket, and feeds Mariko the illusion that he _doesn’t_ instantly break out into goosebumps and shivers.

Even Mariko knows that Riku doesn’t handle cold well. _Everyone_ who’s spent any time around him knows that. So, if Riku feels warm enough to take off his jacket…

That illusion shuts down gracefully, and Riku does his best not to twitch under Tsuru’s amused glances and Mariko’s intermittent scrutiny. Her gaze skips back to him as if she can’t believe what she sees, then pulls away as she looks for the trick.

With his jacket pooled in his lap over his hands, it isn’t so obvious when Riku shapes the seals for the jutsu again. This time, Mariko outright flushes, a bodily reaction prompted by the signals Riku’s sent her, not his doing directly. Carefully, Riku works that into the illusion, telling Mariko’s eyes that he and Tsuru are also flushed, Tsuru with a stubborn set to her jaw to explain why she hasn’t taken any of her own layers off.

(Mariko gave her _such_ a scolding for what she wore when they landed, and then another lecture for not wearing enough protection during the second phase, that Tsuru has vacillated between as little clothing as possible and covered from head to toe.)

Mariko’s eyes stray to Miss Kurenai, dressed in her usual outfit, but Riku knows better than to adjust his teammate’s perception there. Mariko would never, for a single moment, believe a jounin was fallible enough to be affected by minor temperature fluctuations.

Each time he’s forced to end the jutsu, he’s careful to gradually leech the heat out of Mariko, as if that warm draft is moving away. About the fifth or sixth time, she reverses course as soon as he pulls the heat, as if trying to find it again. She circles the room, frowning, and Riku uses his next turn to tease her with it, tugging it away right as she starts to relax.

That must be too much, because she whirls on him and says, “If you’re making it warm, make it _stay warm_,” with her hands on her hips and an expression full of personal offense.

Miss Kurenai chuckles and says, “Alright then, that’s fifteen minutes _and_ the target seeing through the illusion. Thank you for not disrupting the genjutsu, Mariko. Bear with it for another minute. Riku, Tsuru, let me show you two how to break a genjutsu from the outside. I will warn you, Riku: this can be disorienting for the caster.”

It’s basically just injecting chakra into the target, which is one of the foundational techniques for most medical jutsu and therefore within the first ten techniques Riku learned from Miss Honda. The only twist is that the disruption needs to hit the whole body at once, while most medical jutsu focus on a specific area, organ, or system. Miss Kurenai stresses the importance of disrupting the target’s chakra system evenly, as any discrepancy could leave the genjutsu in place, albeit weakened.

_Disorienting_ is not the word Riku would choose to describe how it feels, having his genjutsu broken. _Nauseating_, _vertigo-inducing_, or _like a concussion_ would all be more accurate. When he comes to, he’s on his knees and panting through the urge to throw up. His ears pop. Beside him, Tsuru rubs his back in broad, soothing circles.

“Ugh,” he says out loud, incapable of yelling at Miss Kurenai. He feels awful and her warning was inadequate, so he _wants_ to yell, but he knows indulging that will only make things worse. The idea of a loud noise makes his stomach roil. When Tsuru’s free hand brushes his bangs off his forehead-protector, he can feel how soaked the cloth is, and becomes aware of all the other places he’s sticky with sweat.

“Unpleasant, right?” Miss Kurenai says, and kneels in front of him to…offer him a cup of tea? He didn’t notice her having tea before. Maybe she sent for it. “Drink that and give yourself a minute. It will wear off.”

She isn’t lying; Riku drinks the tea, waits out the horrible feeling of his guts trying to crawl out of whichever orifice is closest. Clinically, he realizes it’s mostly just his brain trying to interpret the massive impact breaking the genjutsu had on his chakra system and telling his body how it ought to feel, but that doesn’t actually help because he can’t make it stop.

(His genjutsu wasn’t even _big_ or _complex_; by design, he didn’t have a lot of chakra wrapped up in it, and it still knocked him down. Maybe this is why ninja don’t use genjutsu that much: he can’t even imagine how much worse it would feel, if more of his chakra had washed back on him. _Debilitating_ might not cover it.)

He breathes through the upset and the worst of the sensation passes.

Once he’s steady on his feet, Miss Kurenai checks in with him to make sure he’s still ready to go for his own turn under a genjutsu. Sure nothing Tsuru does can be worse than that, he walks out of the room and waits for two minutes. Counting helps quell the last bits of nausea still hanging around. When he comes back in, it’s with his game face on—Tsuru might feel bad for him, but she won’t take it easy because of that.

Riku walks through the door, and the conference table is full of different versions of Mariko, Miss Kurenai, and Tsuru. Some are chatting, some filling out paperwork, some sipping tea. A couple stare at him expectantly.

“Huh. Okay.” He surveys the whole room, but if the point is to force him to find the _real_ Tsuru, she’s chosen a good hiding strategy.

He disrupts his chakra—which throws him straight back into queasiness, even though this isn’t _his_ genjutsu and Mariko seemed fine when Miss Kurenai disrupted her chakra—and for a second, all the duplicates disappear. Then they reappear.

Riku’s eyes narrow. Clearly, Tsuru just reapplied the genjutsu; she shouldn’t have enough chakra to do that too much, but…

He walks over to the nearest fake Miss Kurenai and touches her shoulder. His hand goes through her, and the illusion meets his eyes with a smile, clapping sarcastically like he’s seen Tsuru do dozens of times.

So. Purely a visual-audio illusion, then, to save on chakra. There’s still a limit to how often Tsuru can reapply it, especially because Riku now has firsthand experience that disrupting it is so very unpleasant—

Except, he realizes with a frown, there’s no reason to assume he _is_ disrupting it. Tsuru is as much a medical ninja as he is. Sure, that makes them both trainees, but she has access to his chakra through the genjutsu itself. As soon as he starts the process of freezing his chakra system for a moment, she can end the genjutsu, letting him _think_ he’s winning, and then reapply it.

Still costs chakra, but it means he isn’t incapacitating her. Everyone’s reserves make his look like a joke, and she has enough chakra to keep throwing genjutsu at him for fifteen minutes, provided she’s the one shutting it down each time. The only way to stop her is to figure out where she is and _make_ her stop, but that’ll be tricky when he can’t trust his sight.

If he were Kakashi, he could find her by smell. A couple of jounin who Riku’s treated in the hospital have jokingly called Kakashi a bloodhound and compared him to an Inuzuka. _Kiba_ could locate Tsuru by scent alone, and that rankles, for all that he recognizes this is Kiba’s area of expertise, not his. (He can smell Tsuru in the room, of course, but the most he can narrow it down to is “this side of the room, not that one.” That still leaves him with too much ground to cover, especially because there’s nothing stopping her from moving.)

Even if Kiba isn’t much more than the uninspired brawler-type that Riku pegged him as, based on what little Riku saw of him in the Chuunin Exams and assorted hospital visits, Kiba’s on the rookie _espionage_ team. Riku doesn’t doubt that he deserves to be there. If he didn’t originally, Miss Kurenai has had months to whip him into shape.

In terms of rankings, Riku’s still at the bottom of his age group. Not good enough to beat them in fights, recent Chuunin Exams victories aside, and no real specialty outside of medical jutsu. He can’t even make the most useful medical jutsu _work_ without backup. He isn’t a good tracker, didn’t really excel at the one undercover mission he went on, and he’s no good at stealth. His own first attempt at a genjutsu was seen through inside fifteen minutes, and now he’s caught in someone else’s first attempt. Clearly, he doesn’t have a natural talent for this skill, either.

There goes any hope of transferring to a genjutsu-related post; if such a thing exists, he undoubtedly wouldn’t qualify based on his performance so far.

Still, Riku’s not one to give up without a fight. He’s figured out what the illusion is, and he has some idea of what her goal is for making it this way. The next logical step is to shut it down—but disrupting the genjutsu won’t work for that. He can try hurting himself, but she could always send another genjutsu his way afterward.

He needs something that will catch her off guard, make her freeze—something that will give him an opening to get close to her. Riku himself isn’t the greatest, most creative ninja—but luckily for him, he was _roommates_ with that guy, and he has an idea.

Shock value only works the first time. Riku forms the Ram hand seal.

A puff of smoke, and in his place stands Rinoa Heartilly in the skimpiest bikini Riku can imagine. He gives a twirl.

The illusory figures disappear, leaving an amused Miss Kurenai, an unimpressed Mariko, and a wide-eyed, gaping Tsuru.

Shock value only works the first time, and it has a _very limited_ window. Riku marches straight up to Tsuru.

It’s been years since Riku last saw Rinoa, and it’s possible she’s taller in his imagination than in real life. Nevertheless, as he marches up to Tsuru, he realizes that he’s a good two inches taller than her now. She has to look _up_ to meet his eyes. Not that she is looking up.

Riku plants his hands on his hips, channeling Rinoa-the-babysitter at her most exasperated, and says, directly into Tsuru’s face, “I win,” then drops the jutsu, jerking back to see her reaction.

Tsuru goes from blushing, red-cheeked, pupils dilated, to flushing, eyes narrowed, fists clenched. Riku can’t help it; he starts laughing.

Miss Kurenai calls time, but Tsuru, intent on hitting Riku, doesn’t seem to care. Mariko steps in, tries to grab Tsuru’s flailing arms, but Tsuru doesn’t stop. Riku doubles over, laughing too hard to defend himself.

Eventually, Miss Kurenai gets Tsuru calmed down, although the dark expression on his teammate’s face promises dire retribution, probably while Riku sleeps. Mariko sighs, weary and put-upon, like her life is so hard. Riku rolls his eyes at both his teammates, but keeps his mouth shut.

The _last_ thing he needs is them teaming up on him. So far, Tsuru has been a neutral party—she’ll listen to him complain about Mariko, and offer her own gripes if Mariko’s irritated her recently, but she never acts on any of it. If she decides to join forces with Mariko, Riku’s in for an awfully long month.

Once Miss Kurenai gets them settled, she turns a smile on Riku. “You know, I can see the family resemblance now.” It takes Riku off guard, because he first thinks she means _Naruto_, since it’s Naruto’s jutsu, but that doesn’t really make sense.

Riku’s a little aware that Kakashi teases people, but he’s heard about it more than he’s experienced it. (Has Kakashi always had kid gloves on with him, or does he treat Riku differently because they’re related? Or is it more, he only teases the people he cares about? Or just the ones, like Gai, who he knows really well—but then how would Miss Kurenai know about that reputation?)

Unsure how to respond and sure he doesn’t want to vomit up all these thoughts, Riku confines himself to a tight smile and says, “Thanks,” trying not to sound conflicted.

Miss Kurenai buys it and launches into a mini-lecture about nonstandard ways to disrupt genjutsu, then has them start all over, this time with Mariko targeting Riku.

///

It’s a couple days after they’ve started genjutsu practice that Mariko tracks Riku down to the roof during the sunrise. Riku doesn’t run through his morning routine out here in the open where any of the competition might be spying on him, but between finishing and heading to the shower, he likes to catch a couple minutes of peaceful quiet. Watching the sun drag itself up over the horizon, mirrored in the ocean waves from his vantage point, is the closest to _home_ Riku’s felt off the Islands.

(Sunsets are too much; when the sun disappears and the stars come out, Riku’s forced to think about where he grew up, his friends there, the fact that he hasn’t seen them in months and that was by _his_ choice. He didn’t even figure out how to get a letter to them, so they’re all probably angry or worried about him.)

Mariko joins him that morning. Riku hears her come up, but doesn’t turn, perched on the railing the way Sora and Kairi sit on the paopu tree. She hesitates, footsteps stilling, then walks over to him. She doesn’t hop up like he has, but she leans forward, arms on the railing and eyes on the horizon.

For some reason, she stays quiet until the sun is fully exposed, and longer, until the streets below them start to echo with opening doors and early-morning foot-traffic.

“We should talk about the Finals,” she says eventually. “Compare notes.”

Riku glances at her. In profile, she looks serious, but when does she ever not? Like this, thoughtful and calm, he realizes for the first time how similar her coloring is to Sora’s: blue eyes, brown hair just a shade too dark, skin tone pale and rosy where Sora goes tan, but close enough for them to be cousins if not siblings.

Her attitude is so unlike Sora, though. Self-motivated where Sora is lazy, abrasive where Sora is friendly. If he got them in the same room, they’d hate each other. They wouldn’t notice the similarities any faster than he did.

“Sure,” he says, easily, and lets her lead him back inside.

///

Mariko isn’t one of Konoha’s great strategists, but between her and Riku, they produce about half a dozen workable plans for dealing with the Sound team. Karin is less of an issue than Kimimaro, but she still presents a challenge: Riku’s staff will keep her at a distance, but that’s where Karin excels. Even injured and trying to downplay her abilities, Karin’s aim was excellent, and Riku will have to dodge _everything_ because there’s always the risk of poison.

Even if Kabuto and Orochimaru haven’t supplied the sole Sound team with enough to kill a small town, Karin can get her own. Mist will no doubt happily sell it to any of the competitors, and sell the antidotes too, for a substantial overcharge. Riku can heal himself, of course, but that’s tricky to do in the middle of a combat situation, when the enemy is right there to reapply the poison as many times as it takes to knock him out. (Plus, he wasn’t lying to Noboru: poison _isn’t_ his specialty. In that situation, he’d just have to fix the symptoms and hope for the best, but anything particularly nasty is going to take him out and he suspects Karin knows that.)

Mariko could make herself immune over the course of the match, but Riku can’t. That’s a level of fiddling with his own antibodies and immune system that he just isn’t capable of.

The goal, then, is to stay close to Karin. Start with the staff to throw her off, then lunge in and stay there, not giving her room to maneuver or get away.

“We should start practicing together,” Mariko says. “You need more practice at hand-to-hand.”

Riku makes a face, but Gai said as much himself—if Gai had his way, Riku wouldn’t have picked up the staff for another year, minimum, and instead would have spent all this time becoming a deadly force in unarmed conflict. When he was in the hospital, Tenten jumped Riku ahead in the curriculum, and Gai still sometimes seems put off by it, pulling Riku back frequently to focus on something he hasn’t yet mastered.

“And you need practice against someone with a sword,” he says in return. “I’ll do my best, but I’m not at Kimimaro’s level.”

She accepts that, and they move on to talking about Kimimaro and how out of their league he is.

“You could try genjutsu on him,” Riku suggests doubtfully. “He doesn’t have any special senses.”

“Explain the bone thing to me again.”

So he does. They talk through it like a medical problem, like Miss Honda has assigned them some homework and they need to be ready to discuss it the next day. Weird abilities are common in Konoha, but each one is unique, and this one is uniquely awful.

“When you say _internal damage_…”

Riku says grimly, “He was heading to total organ shutdown and death when I healed him.”

Mariko shudders. They’ve all worked with patients who died, but medical students are insulated from the worst of it. They’re never attached, chakra to chakra, with the dying, and rarely in the room while the patient passes away. They’ve seen death, but from a distance, where they could rationalize it away. _I won’t let anyone die_ is the thought, written plainly on all their faces, as the news sweeps the hospital. _I’ll do better, faster. I’m different. That won’t happen to me_.

“You can’t count on wearing him down enough to trigger an episode,” Riku says. “You saw how fast he is. Based on his chart, he can go for _months_ before his body gets that bad.”

“It’s been months since you fixed him up, though.”

True, but, “They’ve probably figured out something that works better. Trust me, if he was close, we’d have seen symptoms.”

Mariko makes a face, then says, “Tell me again what his chart said,” and makes him go through the whole thing repeatedly, eyes bright and focused, taking _notes_ as he talks.

“And what are you planning to do if he _does_ beat me?” she asks finally, nettled by Riku’s continuing insistence that she won’t be able to take advantage of the only weakness they’re sure Kimimaro has. “If what I do doesn’t work, what’s your plan?”

_Try my best_ is what flashes through Riku’s mind, but he knows better than to say that. She’d just sneer at him and say something derogatory about his critical thinking skills. Also, given the behavior of the Sound team so far, _keep my distance and hope he doesn’t say anything weird_ is a lot more likely, but saying that would open him up to Mariko’s scrutiny, and Riku’s already had enough of that from Tsuru, Miss Kurenai, and the ANBU.

“That’s why I’m learning genjutsu for battle,” Riku says instead, pleased with how confident he sounds. “I don’t have to _win_ against him. Hinata and Shikamaru both lost their fights. I just have to prove myself, right? So that’s what I’ll do. If I can throw off his aim a little, keep the fight going, I should be fine.”

Mariko blinks at him. “That’s…not a bad idea, actually.”

And she huffs and rolls her eyes when Riku grins at her, but they spend another three hours going over how each of them can best use genjutsu to stall Kimimaro, giving them time to show off as best they can.

///

Riku spends what free time he has that first week—when he’s not practicing genjutsu with his whole team—or pairing off for practice matches with Mariko or Tsuru—or, of course, going through his normal morning and evening workouts, or eating, or sleeping—in the embassy’s excuse for a library. He scans through everything that looks even vaguely helpful, picks up two books on the Second Ninja War and deploys a clone to skim through them in his room while he keeps looking.

He goes through genealogies, recipe books, treaty documents, trade deals. There’s a set of books at the bottom of one bookshelf, codices of Kirigakure law, half from before the Fourth Mizukage and half after. There are old Bingo Books, copies that are no longer relevant, full of ninja who died before Riku was born. There are copies of _Mist’s_ Bingo Books, and those turn out to be the most useful texts he finds, because at least Kushina is in one of those.

They have her listed as _Uzumaki Kushina_, of course, and as _Konoha’s Red-Hot Habanero_, which isn’t the dumbest name Riku’s heard, but it’s close. The name must come from her hair, which is close to Karin’s color even in the faded photograph. Her eyes are light and the color there is incredibly faded, so they might have been grey or blue, it’s hard to tell.

Riku squints at the picture, tries to see Karin in it. Kushina’s face is softer and rounder, not as angular as Karin’s. He thinks he can see Naruto in these features, though; in the cheekbones, the nose, a bit in the eyes. He hasn’t seen Naruto in months, so his memory might be off, but he thinks there’s a resemblance.

The number of S-, A-, and B-rank missions she has listed makes Riku boggle. Even for someone active during a war, the numbers seem high given her listed age. According to the Bingo Book, she was younger then than Kakashi is now, and Riku can’t imagine even his uncle has more than forty S-rank missions to his name, on top of over six hundred A- and B-ranks combined. She must have regularly run missions back-to-back, with a stamina that Riku both envies and is a little afraid of, even in theory.

The Bingo Book cautions Mist-nin to “run away on sight” and, if engagement is necessary, to “approach with caution and do not anger her.” She’s listed as proficient in Wind, Water, and Yin releases (Riku’s never even heard of that last one), as well as seals and whatever “chakra chains” are. Toward the top of her file, she’s listed as a Konoha jounin and a “人柱力,” which Riku’s also not familiar with. An outdated rank from the Second Ninja War, maybe? Or a special role, like a medic? It could be a name for a certain kind of sealing expert. Anyway, Riku carefully tears that page out and folds it delicately, careful to line the creases up so he doesn’t risk damaging any of the text. The ink is already faded enough with obliterating characters accidentally.

That paper joins Kushina’s immigration record in Tsuru’s luggage. He has to unlock her door to get in and put it there since Tsuru is elsewhere, but it isn’t like he’s going through her things, and anyway, he locks the door behind him when he’s done.

He’d like to have more to show Naruto—something concrete, like a birth record that lists Kushina as Naruto’s mom—but this is good for now. He didn’t have much luck finding information on where she was from originally, but it’s possible Konoha will have records on Uzushio that haven’t been lost or destroyed in the decades since Kushina came to the Academy. It’s also possible that people knew her, but Riku is _really_ worried about asking the wrong person and getting his whole search shut down.

He could ask his uncle, though, the next time he sees Kakashi. Kakashi _likes_ Naruto, and he’s older than Iruka, so he’s more likely to be familiar with Uzumaki Kushina. Someone like her, with her record? She must have been famous while Kakashi attended the Academy. He’ll have heard stories about her, anyway.

Plan formed, Riku sets the matter aside for now, and focuses on the more immediate problem of how he’s going to demonstrate his abilities against Karin and Kimimaro. He can’t risk training injuries—even if he can heal them, his experience in the second phase showed him that there are limits to those abilities, and hitting them again could very well make Miss Kurenai pull him out of the Exams before the Finals. He needs to be careful, to not stress himself, to be aware of his stamina and his chakra reserves and tap out when they start to get low. Without Gai to monitor, Riku knows he can’t trust himself and errs on the side of caution rather than pushing himself harder.

Three weeks left, and then he’ll have to walk into his first Chuunin Exam Finals as a participant. (And the first he attended as a spectator became an invasion, a series of battlefields and the overwhelming smell of blood. This time, if he can just avoid anyone dying—anyone even getting _close_ to dying—he’ll count it as a win.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone keeping track: Riku's ninja abilities now encompass basic + shadow clones, henge + Sexy no Jutsu, substitution jutsu, body flickering, medical jutsu (scan for damage, first aid, some damage/disease treatment) but NOT Mystical Palm Jutsu (unless someone else plays battery), and basic sensory-change genjutsu, on top of his physical/fighting/weapon skills. And he knows Cure!
> 
> Also, I don't care if there are official stats for Kushina's mission record, I'm gonna stick with "better than Minato's," dammit. (Yes, yes, she wouldn't have been running missions while pregnant, but he shouldn't have been running missions while Hokage, so it probably evens out.) Anyway, for those who don't want to hit up the wiki, Riku is actually off, Kakashi's record is just slightly better.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left comments and kudos! The next chapter will be up next weekend, **November 9-10**. And, for anyone curious, the prologue of _Girl with a Key_ is now written. (My goal is to have 3-4 chapters done before I start posting, once this story finishes. _Ideally_, if I get them done during NaNo, I can edit while wrapping this story up and not have, you know, another six month hiatus between installments. lolsob.)


	8. respite iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks 2-3 of the Downtime/Training Month feature: on- and off-screen practice, Sound shenanigans, and some cameos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content notes:** mentions of hyper-vigilance without specifically connecting it to PTSD, mentions of past injuries.
> 
> Also, just so no one gets their hopes up only to be disappointed: the cameos in this chapter are not Kakashi.

Incrementally, Riku gets better at genjutsu—at creating illusions, at spotting them, at breaking them. There are even days, toward the end of the first week, where he can stay upright when his break.

Miss Kurenai mandates “non-training time” each day, and when that fails utterly at getting them out of the embassy, she tries to sell them the idea of “people-watching” as critical for making their genjutsu more authentic.

She also pulls Riku aside and tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he needs to cut back on his training, because apparently she has some capital-C Concerns about his (lack of) ability to pace himself and keep track of his own limits.

“I understand you’ve never had a dedicated jounin instructor,” she says delicately, “but usually, genin aren’t expected to find their limits on their own. You’ve done an admirable job so far, but you can’t keep going at this pace. I’m worried.”

What she’s worried about, he’s not sure. That he’ll burn out? Or that he, like Sasuke, will turn to other, better, faster methods of getting stronger? Strength isn’t Riku’s primary goal, but he can see why she might think it was.

“I do know my own limits, though,” he tries to argue.

Her eyebrows go up. “Riku. You collapsed in the Exams.”

He grimaces. “That wasn’t training. I was just…trying my best. I’m not like that in training, I promise.”

“Still.” Her expression turns implacable. “I’d feel a lot better if you promise me you’ll cut back.”

He almost argues that he’s _already_ cut back, since he’s kept his promise to Tsuru to only use one shadow clone a day. (He’s discovered, tangentially, that he can keep that clone going _all_ day without the usual sleep-related consequences, so long as he dispels it before going to sleep. He does need to sleep longer on those days, but that’s a small price to pay.)

Deciding not to let her know about his use of shadow clones—if Tsuru hasn’t ratted him out yet, he won’t expose himself like that—Riku sighs and says, “Alright, fine, I’ll cut back,” without getting into any details.

She accepts that with a smile, and the next time she proposes “observation time,” Riku goes along with it, and that throws the girls off enough that they do, too, without any protests.

At first, they venture out as a group, just in case anyone decides to take out some competition early. This leads to a few fights, because for three teenagers close enough in age and all in the same profession, they _cannot_ seem to agree on how to spend their time.

Riku wants to check out the training grounds, because they’re allowed to use them, and he wants to see what they look like here in Mist. Are there miniature marshes and swamps, like Konoha has tiny forests sprinkled throughout? (And he’s keeping his promise if he limits how long he spends at those training grounds…)

Mariko wants to scope out the hospital. Not that they’d be allowed to peek at any procedures, but even looking at how the building’s set up could be interesting.

Tsuru, meanwhile, declares them both “too boring to be seen with,” because she wants to check out clothing stores. And weapon stores, but clothing will get them fewer side-eyes.

For the first week and a half, they rotate who gets to pick what they do, compromising as necessary. For example, Riku wins Mariko to his side by pointing out that training injuries really ought to be looked at by a medical professional and could get them a lot further into the hospital than just strolling in would. Tsuru bribes Riku: she’s found a few weapons shops that specialize in bladed weapons like the knives Tsuru favors as well as the kinds of swords Riku grew up fantasizing about. (They aren’t about to _buy_ any, they’d be overcharged horribly, but after window-shopping, Riku and Tsuru both know Riku will agree to go to a clothing store where they _can_ buy things, if it’s on the way back to the embassy.)

Mariko tries to convince Riku or Tsuru to help her find underground poison stores, or go looking for Water country mushrooms, or whatever, but Riku and Tsuru are united in their desire to _not_ do either of those things. Faced with a losing battle, Mariko decides that she wants to find such things a lot more than she’s afraid of being ambushed, and so, halfway through the second week, she ditches them immediately after genjutsu training.

Riku and Tsuru stick together a little longer—and, without Mariko as a buffer, Riku notices that he’s a lot more aware of his surroundings, twitching to look at every unexpected sound or movement. Outside, where other people are, that’s an unsustainable level of hypervigilance. Tsuru does the same, and she’s the one who suggests that, rather than their presence helping the other calm down, they might be ramping each other up.

“Every time you tense up, _I_ start looking for a threat,” she says. “And don’t try to tell me you don’t do the same, because you _do_. I catch myself _matching your breathing_, Riku. It’s weird and creepy, and it’s not getting any better.”

“And your solution is to ditch me?” He crosses his arms over his chest, giving her his best unimpressed expression. “What if…” He doesn’t finish, not because he can’t think of how to end the sentence, but because there’s _so much_.

What if Sound tries to kidnap him again, only this time, they know about his key? What if the big guy comes back to break his other arm? What if Karin approaches him and tells him she’s Naruto’s long-lost sister? What if Kabuto tries to talk to him?

What if _Orochimaru_ shows up? What’s Riku supposed to do _then_?

Some of this must cross his face, because Tsuru’s expression softens and she reaches out, pulls Riku into an awkward side-hug. “Don’t worry so much. It’ll be fine. You can handle the big, bad city on your own.” A beat. “Besides, you’ve got that ANBU escort service looking out for you.”

Oh yeah. Riku mostly forgets about that, but it’s true: the ANBU who took Kairi’s necklace to examine it for seals or other traps has stuck around, following them at a discreet distance. If Tsunade hadn’t warned Riku that he’d be tailed, he never would have noticed, the ANBU is that subtle.

Not subtle enough to fool Tsuru, though. Good to know. He smiles as they pull away from one another, hoping it’s a little surer than he feels.

“There you go, see? You’ve got this. Besides, you are _not_ a good shopping partner, and sometimes a girl wants to try clothes on in peace.”

Riku makes a face. “You just don’t want me telling you your fashion sense sucks.”

“Oh, shut up, like I’m gonna take that from _you_, Mr. Bumblebees Are the Coolest.”

“At least _my_ clothes cover all my vital organs.”

“And now you sound like Mariko. Or my mother.” Riku grins, and Tsuru grins back, flapping her hands at him after a moment. “Alright, shoo, off with you. Go, find trouble somewhere else. Not too much trouble, though!”

He waves. The two part ways in front of the embassy, Tsuru off to spend money, Riku off to find a place to test himself.

For a few days, he’s successful; he doesn’t risk a shadow clone out in the open, but a regular clone adds a touch more reality to his solo training exercises. He can also have one chase him around a variety of training grounds. A thrown knife will still disrupt a regular clone, so Riku can at least practice his aim under pressure.

Also, his aim while body flickering, which is still…not great. He’s working on it!

He doesn’t push himself too hard, leery of any injuries. Now he’s practicing how to avoid them, which is more difficult than it sounds in terrain he isn’t used to.

He finds the miniature bogs and marshes, training grounds that are square miles of hill and fog. The trees around here can support a person’s weight, but he finds out the hard way they’re spaced too far apart for him to leap from one to the next in a straight shot, and the fog leaves condensation on the bark and branches, making sticking to them its own exercise in attention and chakra control.

It’s territory set up for ambushes, and Riku trains in it grudgingly, every day wishing he dared take just an hour or two off to go out to the beach and swim until he finally just _does_, lets Tsuru take him swimsuit shopping and lets a shopkeeper overcharge him horribly on a surfboard.

The first time, Tsuru and Mariko follow him like worried parents, tutting at him for skipping his morning exercise and exchanging glances over his head like he won’t notice; after they see how good he is, though, they leave him be.

Sora’s parents taught all the kids how to swim when they were little, and surf when they were older. It was how Riku met Sora: he’d been a bit too old for Sora’s group, but when Sora’s parents caught the older kids picking on Riku, they switched which group he was in.

When they first met, Riku was convinced Sora’s parents had convinced him to be nice to the weird, new, friendless kid. He quickly learned that that was just how Sora was, eager and friendly and full of sunshine. He didn’t make fun of Riku’s mistakes or resent Riku’s successes, and the two became fast friends.

Sora never had the same thirst for surfing that his parents had, but he, Riku, and Kairi dutifully attended their lessons and learned how to paddle out, to measure a wave, to stand up, to ride it. They weren’t _fantastic_, none of them were about to win any awards, but they had fun all the same.

Riku recaptures a fragment of that feeling now, in near-icy water at dawn, riding waves with a handful of Mist citizens (possibly ninja, possibly not).

He watches the surf for a good twenty minutes before going out himself, familiarizing himself with it, with the way the surfers handle it. Nothing too different from what he’s used to, and the waves don’t seem beyond his ability, for all that he hasn’t had the opportunity to surf in, Leviathan, over a year now. The basics come back to him easily, though, when he does venture out, and he gets a good two hours of adrenaline thrill, the smell of seawater coating him from the tips of his hair down to the sand between his bare toes.

The next day, he doesn’t spend as long at the beach, just an hour or so, but it’s soothing. When he gets back to the embassy, he showers, eats breakfast, and joins his teammates for genjutsu practice, then leaves the embassy again in the afternoon to find a training ground to test himself in.

The second week closes with nothing bad happening, lulling Riku into a false sense of security. He really doesn’t expect it when, early one afternoon, he wanders into a training ground only to spot Kimimaro standing in the middle of it.

Maturely, calmly, Riku meets Kimimaro’s eyes, then turns on his heel and _books it_ back to the embassy.

///

Miss Kurenai doesn’t tell him he’s overreacting, but her eyebrows strongly suggest he’s overreacting. Nevertheless, she has a word with his ANBU shadow, and the next day, Tsuru and Mariko leave with him.

They’re back to arguing over what to do, but Riku relaxes into it and lets Mariko win, for once. Tsuru looks _incredibly_ put-upon as they go traipsing through dingy, disreputable-looking streets hunting down rare fungi, but she goes with them.

Mariko looks _thrilled_.

///

“We can’t be his security blanket forever,” Tsuru tells Miss Kurenai, after the third day in a row of enforced team bonding time. “I think Sound’s just fucking with him, and letting them get away with it just means they’ll both be worse off in the finals.”

Mariko makes a face at her. “The last time I didn’t take them seriously, they kidnapped Riku out of a Leaf outpost. Even if they _are_ messing with him, leaving him on his own isn’t the solution.”

Riku, more startled by Mariko’s defense of him than Tsuru’s lack thereof, glances at Miss Kurenai for her reaction.

She sighs. “You both have a point. Sound is…noted for psychological warfare. However we react, they are likely to turn it to their advantage.” She meets Riku’s eyes. “It’s up to you how you want to proceed. If Sound _does_ attempt contact, you have permission to engage them and see what they want. You won’t be alone, either; Cat will be following you.”

Riku blinks. “Cat?” Tsuru elbows him and waves her hand in front of her face. It takes Riku an embarrassingly long time to put together. “Oh, the ANBU. Sure.”

“Sure, you want to see if Sound will make contact?” Miss Kurenai asks. At Riku’s nod, she sighs again, but says, “Alright. Remember, your goal is to draw them out, but don’t agree to anything, and be _careful_.”

///

So Riku goes out on his own again after that, twitchier than he has been since he got back from the Sound base. Every splash of color is potentially Karin, while bone-white _anything_ at head height makes Riku think _Kimimaro_ before he can process—a head-wrap, or a shirt hung up to dry.

He’s so on-edge, of course he’s taken off guard when the Sound girl grabs his hand as she’s running past, tugging him down a narrow alley and through a series of turns no doubt designed to lose Riku’s ANBU shadow.

She looks over her shoulder at him, grinning and winking before pulling him through a covered eating area, out the back and into another alley. They duck into and out of stores, dodge past passersby. Riku _dearly_ hopes that someone whose codename is _Cat_ won’t lose them so easily, but the girl does her best. She even takes them through a couple of houses and apartments, which Riku feels bad about. They don’t break anything, but it’s a near thing, with the way she hurtles around corners and vaults over tables and desks, pulling him after her.

Finally, she slows down, tugging him along as she walks up the side of a building. Riku follows, a toy on a string drawn behind her as she climbs into a third-story window.

Once he rolls through, landing in a crouch on a futon, the girl closes the window, latching it shut. Riku blinks, taking in the scene.

The room isn’t large, about as big as Riku’s kitchen-slash-dining-room back home, and there are futons spread all over the floor, no sign of other furniture. Riku quickly rises and steps off the one he’d landed on, eyes darting between the inhabitants of the room.

The Sound girl to his right leans up against the wall next to the window, projecting an air of smug satisfaction. To _her_ right, against that wall, there’s a guy with blue hair and _two heads_ lounging on another futon.

Riku pulls his eyes away from _that_ and to the left, where Karin and the redheaded girl who first taunted Riku with Kairi’s necklace have put the full length of the room between them. Karin is sitting neatly, looking over a file in her hands, while the other redhead polishes a flute. Between them is one familiar face—the big guy who broke Riku’s arm—and one dark-skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed stranger.

The futon in the center of the room belongs to Kimimaro, who rises to his feet as Riku meets his eyes. Without looking around, Kimimaro says, “Sound Four, leave us.”

Instant protests from the two-headed guy and the redhead. Riku ignores them, splitting his attention between Kimimaro, the Sound girl who brought him, and Karin.

Karin, who sets her file down and doesn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she turns a bland expression on the others—the Sound Four? Is that meant to be a title, like the Sannin? It sounds pretentious.

The two-headed guy argues that Kimimaro isn’t _really_ their leader anymore, so they shouldn’t listen to him, while the redhead says they can’t leave this up to a bunch of fucking _kids_. All the while, the Sound girl continues to look smug, and Karin’s expression stays blank, and Kimimaro doesn’t waver.

“If you won’t follow my orders,” Kimimaro says, voice deeper than Riku expected, “then you will answer to Lord Orochimaru.”

This temporarily shuts the two up, but they don’t look happy about it. Kimimaro eyes them calmly, looking over first the two-headed guy, then the redhead.

“Leave,” he says again.

This time, the new guy and the big guy get up from where they sat on their own futons. Those two moving toward the door seems to deflate the other two.

The two-headed guy rallies quickly. “Kidoumaru, Jiroubou, stay where you are! We don’t take orders from _him_!” The two pause, exchange a glance, and then look at Kimimaro, as if for direction, or waiting to see how this will play out.

The redhead, meanwhile, seems to be the only one who remembers Riku is just standing here for all this. She unfolds herself up, stashing her flute away and crossing over to him.

Riku flinches—the last time she got close, she did a number on him, and right now he has on Kairi’s necklace. He just keeps forgetting to take it off. At the redhead’s distance, it makes a noticeable lump under his shirt, and Riku’s hind-brain is thoroughly aware of how easily she could just reach out and take it, or gouge his eyes out like that one Mist-nin tried to do.

The Sound girl puts herself between the redhead and Riku. The redhead has a good inch or two on Riku and the Sound girl is even shorter than him, but he appreciates the thought, especially since this girl _brought_ him here.

“Tayuya,” Karin says, and her voice cuts through the room, getting everyone’s attention. She rises to her feet smoothly, brushing invisible lint off her shirt. She’s dressed a lot more simply than in the Exams—just a tunic and leggings, feet bare, no sign of a forehead-protector on her. “Step away from Hatake. You’ve done enough.”

The redhead—Tayuya?—sneers. “Like _you_ aren’t on thin fucking ice, yourself. Don’t boss me around, you little shit. You are _out_ of your _league_.”

“Tayuya,” Kimimaro says. “Sakon. Ukon. Kidoumaru. Jiroubou. Leave.”

“Oh, what, we’re s’posed to be scared ’cause you said our _names_—”

“What the fuck gives _you_ the right to tell _us_—”

“This was a mistake,” Riku says, half because he really thinks it was, half to see how they react.

Everyone freezes. Riku’s eyebrows climb up his forehead without any input from him. The Pretentious Four all look a little snarly, a little contemptuous, while Karin and Kimimaro seem slightly worried, and the Sound girl is a bundle of nerves, back and shoulders gone fight-or-flight tense.

“_Leave_,” Kimimaro says, and this time, they do. The two-headed guy goes out of his way to shoulder-check Kimimaro, while the second head stares daggers at Riku the whole way out. The other two guys just leave, no drama there. Tayuya takes her sweet time, glaring at each of the others for long moments as she makes her way to the door.

Once the door shuts, the Sound girl flickers over to it and locks it, collapsing against it with a deep sigh.

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Riku tells her, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s not _precisely_ worried, because the window’s right behind him, but he doesn’t like his odds of getting out that way in one piece if the three Sound-nin decide they want to keep him here.

All three stare at him. It’s a little unnerving. Then Kimimaro inclines his head in the Sound girl’s direction, and Karin looks at her as well.

Riku follows suit. The girl squirms, as if she didn’t expect all that attention, but she _brought_ him here. Color him unimpressed.

He shifts, leaning backward against the windowpane. (Latched closed but no lock, so it’ll take an extra moment, but he should be able—) “I don’t even know your name.”

“Fuuma Sasame,” she says promptly, and gives a little bow. As an afterthought, she kicks off her sandals into a pile at the door.

Riku didn’t notice any of the others grabbing shoes on their way out, but he wasn’t really checking whether they were barefoot. He noticed Karin, but then, he spent weeks living right next to her. He’d notice if Naruto was barefoot, too, come to think of it.

Riku considers playing dumb, but this whole venture already strikes him as a huge waste of time. Kabuto isn’t here; Orochimaru _isn’t_ staying in this cramped apartment building with seven of his subordinates. Whatever the ultimate plan is, he’s starting to think it has a lot more to do with messing with him, personally, than some larger scheme on the part of one of Konoha’s major enemies.

Instead of dragging the situation out, he says, “You said you had something I wanted.”

Sasame grins, shooting a look at Karin that Riku chooses to interpret as _ha, take that!_ Karin rolls her eyes and motions for Sasame to get on with it. (Kimimaro stands, impassive, creepily watching all Riku’s reactions. Like a creep. Riku doesn’t regret healing him, exactly, but he could’ve lived without ever interacting with the guy.)

“I didn’t _say_ that,” Sasame says, tone coy, and Riku would indulge one of his friends if they trotted out that tone—Kairi tends to, and Tsuru sometimes does as well, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated way—but Sasame is basically a stranger. He doesn’t like her that much.

He gives her a flat look, then reaches up to unlatch the window.

Karin snickers while Sasame lunges toward him, almost tripping over the edge of the futon under Kimimaro’s feet. “No, wait! Don’t! We do!”

Riku pauses, fingers on the latch, and looks at her out of the corner of his eye.

She presses forward, stopping only when Riku raises an eyebrow and undoes the latch, although he makes no move to push the window open.

“Okay, look, just. Hold on. Okay?” She stares at him expectantly until he nods. Then she turns a suspicious look on Kimimaro and Karin. “I’m going to be _right back_. Don’t chase him off!”

And she scrambles over to the door, unlocks it, lets it slam closed behind her as she pelts down the hall. Riku stares at the closed door for a long moment before turning his attention on Karin, with only a brief detour to confirm that yes, Kimimaro is still watching him.

Karin sighs and plants one hand on her hip, the other pushing her glasses into place, eyeing Riku right back. “So. I thought we left on good terms, considering you took advantage of our deal.”

Riku feels his face start to scowl, fights to keep his expression as blank as hers. “You _lied to me_ for a couple weeks straight, I think we can call it even.”

“Sure.” She smiles, politely, professionally. Then again, as a plant, a double agent, aren’t all her smiles professional? “But you seem mad.”

Huffing, Riku breaks eye contact, and. That’s a mistake, because then he meets Kimimaro’s gaze, still locked on his. Biting back a shudder, Riku turns his attention back to Karin. “I’m not mad.”

“Okay.”

It’s harder not to scowl. It’s _impossible_ not to clench his fists, even knowing that’s a giveaway. “I’m _not_.”

“I said okay.”

“You don’t sound like you believe me.”

Karin’s eyebrows raise, even as she sighs again. “I’m taking your word for it. What more do you want from me?”

“An apology would be nice,” Riku says thoughtlessly, and then goes red. _Crap_. He really didn’t mean to say that. He doesn’t want to look at her, see her reaction, but he has to know.

She looks…startled, eyes a little wide, biting her lip. Her hand slips off her hip and she fiddles with the hem of her tunic. “Well. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Hurt? Who was talking about hurt? Riku’s _mad_, not hurt. He opens his mouth to say that, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth, swallows.

Karin’s face softens, and she adds, quieter, “I didn’t want to. Hurt you. Not when I lied to you, and…not when I turned you down.”

When Riku told her she could come with him—when she’d rejected that plan wholesale and made it clear she was truly a Sound-nin, not just a manipulated kidnapping victim.

Riku blinks, looks away—at the wall, not Kimimaro. Was he mad about that? About her staying in Sound? A little, mostly because it meant she really was just manipulating him the whole time.

Which she’s doing again. He needs to get ahold of himself. He crosses his arms over his chest again, leans back into the cold glass, tries to project indifference when he looks at Karin once more.

Her expression is soft, and kind, and all sorts of other things Karin isn’t. Riku takes a steady, deep breath. Right. He needs to just assume, from now on, that Karin is lying to him _all the time_. Even when she isn’t talking. (Even if she isn’t, it’s better to just assume she is. He’s less likely to get—mad, that way.)

“Are you actually an Uzumaki?” he asks, because there’s something he wants to talk about, not—whatever that apology was. Leviathan, he’s an idiot. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to bring that up. “Or was that a lie, too?”

Doing great not sounding hurt there, Hatake. Wonderful job. Keep it up.

Karin takes a visibly shuddering breath. Squares her shoulders. Says, “It isn’t a lie. Lord Orochimaru found the documentation.” She shoots a little under-her-eyelashes look at Kimimaro. “My former village donated it.”

Like Riku needed any more reasons to find Kimimaro intimidating. Instead of feeling like he’s a third wheel eavesdropping on a conversation, it feels more like they’re only talking because Kimimaro allows it, which is a hell of a thing for someone in their age range to pull off.

Riku could ask whether she’s related to Naruto, to Kushina, but that feels like giving something away. Instead, he asks, “How distantly are you related?”

Karin flips her hair over her shoulder—and Riku wonders at how close the relation must be, for the shade of her hair to be so close to Kushina’s. Red hair is recessive, which explains why Naruto doesn’t have it, but not why Karin does. “Well, there were a lot of different branches, but I’m a _direct_ descendant. Mother to daughter all the way back to the village.”

What had it been called again…? “Uzushiogakure?”

Nodding, Karin asks, “Did you look it up?”

“Why would I tell _you_?”

She holds her hands up in surrender, but she doesn’t look cowed. “Lord Orochimaru told me Sakura’s other teammate—”

The door bursts open and Sasame, panting, with a satchel slung over one shoulder and cradled protectively to her chest, stumbles through. She lets the door close behind her and once more falls against it. Her face is red and sweat-slicked, like she’s feverish—or like she just ran a whole lot, very quickly.

“Got them!” she says, as soon as she catches her breath. Then she glances around suspiciously. “What were you talking about?”

“My cousin,” Karin says, turning her attention back to Riku. “You know him, don’t you?”

_Don’t agree to anything_, Miss Kurenai had said. Kabuto and Orochimaru knew about Naruto already, though; Riku had heard about them from Naruto himself. Riku temporizes, “Maybe. Assuming you aren’t lying.”

“She isn’t,” Kimimaro says, and Riku isn’t the only one who looks at him with shock. He shrugs. “The information is correct, and Lord Orochimaru is never wrong about these things.”

“You people don’t think he’s wrong about _anything_,” Riku says.

Kimimaro inclines his head, conceding the point. Then he turns to Sasame. “Are those the tapes?”

“Yes, sir!” She reaches into the satchel and pulls out…a videotape? Riku hasn’t seen one of _those_ since the last time he and Sora had a sleepover at Kairi’s house, god, over two years ago now. (After the skinny-dipping fiasco, their parents cracked down on leaving them unsupervised together at night.) She holds it out to Riku.

She’s all the way across the room from him and walking over to her will put him that much further from the window. Also, it’ll put him in range for anything Kimimaro wants to do to him, whereas over here, he’s only in range for whatever distance attacks the guy has up his billowy sleeves. No thanks.

Riku raises his eyebrows at her. “I don’t want it. I don’t even know what it _is_.”

Sighing huffily, like Riku is putting her out personally, Sasame marches over to brandish the tape in his face. “_This_ is Lord Orochimaru’s surveillance tapes of those kids you wanted to find!”

_Don’t agree to anything_ is decidedly different from _don’t accept anything_. Cat will check it over just like he did the necklace, and Riku will report to the embassy’s medical clinic to make sure there were no contact poisons on it.

Riku snatches the tape out of Sasame’s hand, and on a hunch, reaches for the satchel.

She smacks his reaching hand and flickers back to stand beside Kimimaro. “Nuh-uh! The first is a freebie, but you have to earn the rest.”

Riku eyes the tape in his hand. No sign yet of contact poison, no trace of hidden seals. Could be safe, could just be time-delayed. He looks back at Sasame. “Earn how?”

She looks at Kimimaro, so Riku turns his attention there, too. Unlike all the other times Riku’s looked at him, though, Kimimaro smiles.

“When the time comes, say yes,” he says.

Riku frowns, turning that over. “Is that a riddle?”

Kimimaro goes back to being implacable. “It is what it is.”

Looking to Karin for guidance is stupid; she looks equally confused, although when she catches Riku looking, she covers it up. “You heard him. When the time comes, say yes. It seems pretty simple to me.”

“What time?”

Kimimaro’s smile deepens. “You’ll know.” Then he glances out the window. “I think it’s time for you to return.”

“Unless you want to join Sound?” Sasame asks hopefully. “I like you a lot better than those other guys.” At Karin’s scoff, she turns red and says, with heat, “Don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t replace Tayuya with Hatake in a _heartbeat_! I know you two don’t like each other!”

Well, that sounds like an unproductive argument. Riku doesn’t care how he rates compared to the Pretentious Four—half of whom he hasn’t really interacted with, the other half who have gone out of their way to hurt and scare him—so he slides the window open and hops out, tape held securely.

Unlike fresh-from-the-Islands Riku, Genin Riku can manage a three-story fall, landing on the balls of his feet, with just enough chakra coating them to avoid any injury or jarring. He remembers being so impressed with Sakura for that.

He’s come a long way.

Unsure whether Cat managed to trail him or not, Riku makes his way through the cramped, close-set buildings and narrow streets, trying to retrace his steps and find a route to the wider avenue of shops that will eventually take him to the embassy. In Konoha, he uses trees as landmarks; for example, there’s a big one, as big as Riku’s kitchen, which sprouts up out of a circular house two blocks before the fish market.

He’s so focused on trying to recognize something, anything around him, he doesn’t notice Cat at first. He isn’t sure how long Cat’s hung out on top of the building just to Riku’s right, but when he finally does notice the man, that masked head disappears, only to reappear a few buildings down, pointed in his direction.

Riku follows, turning one way or another when Cat appears at an intersection, keeping his eyes up to look for the next reappearance. Within minutes, Cat starts popping further and further away, forcing Riku to jog and then run to catch up.

A few times, he stumbles into people or things, he’s so busy paying attention to Cat’s position on the rooftops.

Before much longer, Riku’s sprinting, and out of desperation more than sense, he flashes through a Tiger seal and starts flickering from spot to spot. That, at least, forces his eyes down to his own level, as he has to spot his landing place. He _could_ join Cat up on the roofs, but that seems…rude, and likely to catch him attention from _Mist’s_ ANBU.

Instead, he stays on the ground, flickering from one place to another, keeping up with Cat at last. Within a minute, he’s back in front of the embassy, and while he needs to catch his breath, he isn’t panting or doubled over.

“Not bad,” Cat says, touching down next to Riku soundlessly and following him into the embassy. “You’re fast for a genin.”

“Thanks,” Riku says, frowning a little at the backhandedness of the compliment. “I’ve had good teachers.”

Cat inclines his head, either in acceptance or acknowledgement, and with a light touch on Riku’s shoulder, steers him over to the staircase down, to the office there.

Once they’re behind closed doors, with Miss Kurenai supervising, Riku has to hand over the tape and recite, to the best of his memory, who said what, and how they looked as they said it, and all of his other impressions. Cat escorts him to the one medic-nin posted to the embassy, who scans him and declares him free of poison, genjutsu, or other interference.

Then he’s released into Tsuru and Mariko’s tender care.

///

Surprisingly, the girls humor him and agree to spend the next few hours in the training room. Riku practices hand-to-hand with Mariko, and when she gives up, he and Tsuru spar, his staff versus her knives. Then he leads them both through some upper-body exercises that he _knows_ they’ve been neglecting, because they both complain loud and long over pullups, never mind that upper body strength is critical for a ninja.

They put up with Riku being the best at something for a good two hours before Tsuru bundles him into the shower. Mariko, the fastest at showering of anyone Riku knows, starts shouting at them about food when he’s only half-done, and threatens to come in and drag him out if he doesn’t hurry up.

Spoiled, cleaned, and fed, Riku bids the girls good night and, exhausted, collapses near-instantly to sleep when he hits his bed.

///

The Hokage arrives about halfway through the third week, without much fanfare. Oh, sure, the Mizukage comes to greet her, and Riku’s whole team has to be there and decked out in the most respectable outfits Miss Kurenai could talk them into on short notice, but there aren’t _crowds_.

Tsunade won’t even stay at the embassy; the Mizukage has opened her personal residence to the visiting Kage, of which there will only be two. Tsunade and Orochimaru.

“The Otokage arrived earlier this month,” the Mizukage announces to Tsunade with a smile. “I trust it’s not a problem?”

Tsunade smiles back, but Riku’s familiar with the vein that starts to throb in her temple when something really annoys her. “Of course not,” Tsunade says, and does a decent job of not sounding like she has to force it out. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

The upshot is, Tsunade and a brace of ANBU will stay at the Mizukage’s residence, and her apprentices will stay at the embassy, even though the Mizukage offers them rooms as well.

“The Otokage’s apprentice is staying with him,” she says. So that’s Kabuto accounted for. Riku was right; they’re nowhere near the cramped little apartment they’ve set their agents up in. “It’s no trouble.”

“I’m sure,” Tsunade says. “But Hinata is young, and good friends with one of our genin team. She’s interested in him and his progress, and it’ll be more convenient if she stays nearby.” Tsunade makes it sound like there’s something more between Riku and Hinata, which—no. (Tsuru elbows him, but Riku just glares at her.) Then the Hokage gives a shrug, as if she doesn’t really care about any of this, “And of course Shizune will need to stay with her, to supervise her own training. You understand.”

Okay, it makes a little more sense if Tsunade is offering up a plausible—to somebody who doesn’t know either Hinata or Riku—reason to keep her apprentices as far out of Orochimaru’s clutches as possible.

(And anyway, since when is _Hinata_ Tsunade’s apprentice? Did that happen since Riku’s been away, or while he wasn’t looking? He tries to think if she was there when he visited Tsunade’s office, but he doesn’t recall.)

“Of course,” the Mizukage says, all smiles, and then they wrap up and Tsunade and her ANBU leave for the residence while another, smaller set of ANBU escort the remaining Leaf-nin back to the embassy.

Hinata looks horribly overwhelmed and like she might pass out from the stress of it. Riku glances from her to Miss Kurenai to the rest of the crowd of chuunin, jounin, and ANBU who came with Tsunade but didn’t get to follow her to the Mizukage’s residence.

He nudges Tsuru. “Let’s go to the roof,” he says, and doesn’t give a reason. Tsuru surveys the room and nods, pulling Mariko along with her. As they leave, Riku hears Miss Kurenai telling Hinata, “Come with me. We’ll get you settled in and catch up.”

///

Before Riku has a chance to track her down, Hinata finds him.

He’s had to suspend his surfing, on Miss Kurenai’s orders, and Tsuru and Mariko both refuse to indulge him by replacing that time with either training with a partner or genjutsu practice. Mariko’s “We _already_ practice for three hours a day” is acerbic, but Tsuru’s combination of a raised eyebrow and a mild “I’m a little concerned about how much time you spend training, Riku” is more devastating, on the heels of his promise to Miss Kurenai.

Without other options, Riku’s taken over the training room and set up a shadow clone to watch him. The clone lets him know when his footwork or positioning is off, and when Riku gets tired of drilling, he and the clone take turns putting each other under genjutsu.

Popping the clone’s genjutsu pops the clone, which transfers a righteous headache straight to Riku, and that’s where he’s at when Hinata knocks on the door and then eases it open to look inside.

“Ah, Riku? Are you busy?”

“No,” he says, rubbing his temples and smoothing back a grimace. “Not busy at all. What’s up?”

Hinata comes in, closing the door behind her, and for lack of anywhere better to sit, sinks down to the floor in the middle of the room. Riku joins her, not as smoothly.

“I wanted to speak with you,” she says, her face tipped down, hands twisting in her lap. “Um. T-to offer my help; that is, what little I can help you with, if you’d like.”

Riku blinks at her. She was not _nearly_ so nervous the few times he remembers interacting with her at Sasuke’s house. That was over a year ago, but shouldn’t she be more confident now, not less?

“Aren’t you the Hokage’s apprentice now?” he asks, frowning. “I think you’re underestimating yourself.”

Her cheeks flare red, and her head dips even lower, eyes shadowed by her bangs. “I’m not—that isn’t—I’m not special. The Hokage is…kind.” She says it like she can’t bring herself to say _the Hokage made a mistake_, but really believes that.

Riku’s frown deepens.

Hinata clutches at her own fingers, her hands tight and white-knuckled. “I’ll help you however I can,” she says finally, “though I’m not sure how useful I can be.”

“Well, you passed your own Exams. That seems like a good track record to me.”

Her hair is short enough that Riku can see the flush spread to her ears. He doesn’t understand how someone who faced down Sasuke, cream of the rookie crop, and earned a promotion from the encounter could be this unconfident. Does she think it was an accident? Because Riku’s pretty sure genin don’t make chuunin because of accidents.

“Right now,” he says, rather than any of that, “I’m practicing genjutsu, and drilling on footwork and positioning. Think you can help with any of that?”

Her head tips up, flush lingering around her cheekbones even as she beams at him. “Ah, yes! I can see through genjutsu—if you know someone else to practice on, I can tell you whether you’re connecting with their chakra system correctly. Or I can observe your footwork. I’m not familiar with most weapons, though.” And her face falls, as if this tiny failure outweighs all the rest. “I’m sorry.”

Riku waves that off. “Don’t be. Let’s start with the footwork—you’re a hand-to-hand specialist yourself, right? Like Neji?” At Hinata’s nod, Riku grins. “Great. Don’t take it easy on me, okay?”

Hinata looks like she thinks he’s underestimating himself, but agrees, and the two of them rise and talk over the logistics, lay the ground rules. Riku will run through a few patterns while Hinata looks for flaws; if he’s good, they’ll practice a few rounds against each other, with clear limitations. No using weird eye powers for Hinata, no risky moves that might result in injury for Riku.

Whatever doubts Hinata has about how necessary Riku’s end of the deal is evaporate about five minutes into their bout. They start off with some basic _kata_, Academy patterns that Iruka taught them both, getting a feel for the physicality of their opponent.

Then Riku doesn’t dodge a strike in order to get a clear shot at Hinata’s midsection, and Hinata pauses with his hand on her ribs, hers on his shoulder.

“You would sacrifice this _tenketsu_?” she asks, sounding confused.

“It’s not like I can use a lot of jutsu in battle.”

Still, she looks baffled when they disengage. She looks more baffled the next time it happens. She looks _irritated_ when Riku messes with the footing on one stance to line up his next strike a second quicker.

Eyes narrowed, she makes him pay for it, attacking his new weak point ruthlessly and sending him to the floor.

About the tenth time she has to help him up, she says, “I think we should take a break,” and Riku shrugs, leads her to the kitchen so they can both rehydrate.

“You left me too many openings.”

Riku shrugs again, one elbow on the counter behind him as he raises his glass to drink. “I got some hits in.”

“Not enough.” Hinata looks genuinely concerned, now. “I’ve read Kaguya Kimimaro’s file. If you fight like that—”

“He’ll kill me.” Hinata gasps, and Riku just shrugs again. “I know I’m not good enough to beat him. I just have to last long enough to prove myself. That means I have to take whatever openings I can get; it isn’t like I’m good enough to keep him from finding _mine_.”

At that, Hinata falls silent, sipping her own water with a troubled expression. Riku watches her, knowing an explosion is coming but unsure what it’ll look like.

Naruto-like, she bursts into sound and emotion. “You can’t _fight_ like that, Hatake Riku. You have to fight like you believe in yourself.” He starts to open his mouth, and she cuts him off with a fierce look. “Don’t tell me you don’t. You have Miss Kurenai, and this team, and Neji’s teacher, and me and all of your friends in the village who believe in you.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in myself or anything,” he says defensively. “I just know what I’m good at, and fighting ninja isn’t it. If you’d faced Gaara instead of Sasuke, do you think you would have believed you could win? After what he did to Chouji?”

Hinata swallows, looks away. Fiddles with her empty glass. Finally, she says, “I would have tried my best.” Her eyes come up, meet his. “That wasn’t your best. And you won’t prove anything to anyone, if you fight like that against Kaguya.”

Riku lets out a breath. “Okay then.”

He can work with that. He can get rid of as many openings as possible, with Hinata’s help, and maybe that will be enough to keep Kimimaro from stabbing him into the infirmary.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, Hinata's situation is very obliquely referenced in the "paper trail" chapter of _the best people_. Not sure I'll go into depth on it, but essentially, Hinata's at loose ends since her team is gearing up to take the Chuunin Exams and she...isn't, so she's been doing some missions with Shikamaru and others. Tsunade took a special interest in her after promoting her, and only recently decided to start training her. Hinata's coming at that from pretty much the opposite place that Sakura did; Hinata already HAS hand-to-hand down, but she doesn't have the academic drive that Sakura did. 
> 
> Incidentally, the decision is VERY recent, so Hinata lost out on a year of training that Sakura had in canon. (To be fair, she's spent that year doing her canonical training with Neji, so it wasn't _wasted_.) In terms of impact on canon, Hinata won't be filling in all the empty places Sakura left, just this one, and not in entirely the same way.
> 
> We're nearing the end now! (I just realized that I'll be posting the last chapter before Thanksgiving. We're _really close_ to the end now!! That's both exciting and intimidating.) Chapter 9 will come out next weekend, **November 16-17**. See you all then!


	9. move in the direction of the spin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last week before the Finals, and then Round 1 of the tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the third stanza of the poem "The Tailspin," by Edward Field:
> 
> Who could have dreamed that the solution  
to this dreaded aeronautical problem  
was so simple?  
Every student flier learns this nowadays:  
You move the joystick in the direction of the spin  
and like a miracle the plane stops turning  
and you are in control again  
to pull the nose up out of the dive.
> 
> **Content notes:** Untreated PTSD almost leads to a meltdown; serious injury. I think that's it?

Hinata and Riku don’t just train, although that’s most of what they do. Sometimes, he puts genjutsu on a shadow clone and Hinata tells him where he isn’t quite connecting as cleanly, where he can be more efficient. Sometimes, they go up to the roof and watch the sunrise.

“I miss Naruto,” she says on one of these mornings. “A-and Kiba and Shino, of course, and Neji and my sister and my father, but I’ll see them all when I get back to the village.”

“It would be one thing if he sent letters,” Riku says. “Then we’d know he’s okay.”

“He’s okay. The Hokage would tell us if something happened.”

Riku hums doubtfully, and Hinata turns wide eyes on him.

“You don’t think so?”

“You know he left with her old teammate, right?” Hinata nods. “Well, have you ever _met_ the guy?” She shakes her head. “He’s not what I would call a _responsible_ adult.”

“You don’t think anything will h-happen to Naruto, do you?”

Riku sighs and slips off the railing on the safe side, sitting down with his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms stretched up to the brightening sky. “Not really, no. He seems good in a fight. I’m more worried that Naruto won’t eat any vegetables or get enough sleep while he’s gone. He’s gonna stunt his growth, and the guy he’s with won’t help a bit.”

Hinata giggles. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

“Well, duh. He’s my friend.”

She looks down at him, arms on the railing and the sea wind blowing her hair out of her face, leaving her fond expression clear and unhidden. “I’m glad. He doesn’t have enough of those.”

Riku almost tells her, then, about Kushina. He considers it, thinks about how to put words to what he knows, what to tell her and what to leave out. It might make her feel better, to have another piece of Naruto to hold onto, to keep safe for him. (It might be useful, if she goes back to the village and helps Riku track down more hints, more clues, in the name of helping Naruto.)

Hinata ducks her head down, smile tucked away again, and Riku pulls himself up onto his feet.

///

Riku would love to claim he wakes up, just a week before the Chuunin Exams resume, and feels a change in the air. He’d love to say, “Oh, yeah, I just had a sense, you know?”

He would love to never have to admit to anyone, including himself, that he wakes up normally, runs through his morning exercises bleary-eyed but dutiful. He passes his entire team, plus Hinata and Miss Shizune, eating breakfast as he stumbles into the embassy kitchen. But he does not just stumble into the kitchen.

No, no, he walks headfirst into his uncle, and only months of training and the man’s hand on his shoulder keep him from jerking back in shock.

Riku blinks at the chest in front of him. It’s a familiar vest, is what he registers first, but none of the chuunin or jounin who work at the embassy eat breakfast with his team. Most have residences in town somewhere; the few that do live here tend to keep odd hours or avoid their temporary guests.

Miss Kurenai and Miss Shizune don’t wear that vest, so that can’t be it.

Pulling his gaze up, Riku blinks again, slowly, brain refusing to process his uncle’s cheerfully smiling face this early in the morning. It’s still dark outside; today, he did his warm-up running to the beach and back in the predawn, and while the sun has started to rise since, the sky outside is more grey than blue still.

Blinking again, Riku finds his tongue. “Hi, Kakashi,” he says.

“Hello, dearest nephew,” Kakashi says, shifting his grip like he is, horribly, preparing to initiate a hug. In front of Riku’s team.

Riku submits to the hug; he can’t see Tsuru snickering because his face is buried in Kakashi’s chest, but he can hear her just fine. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”

Kakashi pulls back and ruffles Riku’s hair. This, to Riku, seems like a habit he got into with Naruto and just never trained out of himself; Naruto’s hair is infinitely better to ruffle, like Sora’s. (Sasuke’s isn’t, unless Riku drastically misremembers him, but Sasuke made up for that by looking like a cat pet the wrong way. Riku can see his uncle getting a kick out of that.) Riku’s is long enough now that it doesn’t even approach “embarrassing bedhead” without some serious effort these days.

Still, old habits. Riku smooths his hair.

Kakashi smiles at him, the full eye-crinkling one—the real smile. “Well, of course I’m here to support my darling nephew in his first-ever Chuunin Exams!”

Riku doesn’t want to call bullshit, exactly, but. Well. That sounds like bullshit. Kakashi is plenty supportive, but all in his own way, not in the way that a normal uncle would be supportive. Like how he arranged for Riku to live with Naruto so they both would have a friend, rather than just introducing Riku to his team and telling them to be nice.

(Not that that would’ve worked, and Kakashi must’ve known that, if even Riku can see it. For all his uncle’s mistakes, Riku thinks the Third knew what he was doing, handing that powder keg to this man.)

Kakashi laughs at whatever his face does, claps his shoulder, and shoves him in the direction of the fridge. “Have something to eat before you fall over. We’ll talk after breakfast.”

Riku makes himself leftover takeout from the night before—Mariko’s curry, judging by the smell as he microwaves it—and expects Kakashi to leave. Surely he must have better things to do? He is, technically, unwelcome in Mist—or, well. He was, under the last Mizukage.

But no, Kakashi hangs around, reading a book with a picture of man chasing a woman on the front. Mariko scowls at it, while Tsuru seems to be developing a concerning case of hero-worship. Shizune pretends not to see it, and ushers Hinata out of the room shortly; Hinata waves goodbye to Riku, who waves back. Whatever vague plans Riku had to train with Hinata have been thoroughly derailed by his uncle’s sudden appearance.

Once Miss Kurenai finishes her breakfast tea, she nails Kakashi with a piercing look that goes ignored. She doesn’t bother with any other weak attempts to get his attention, just gets straight to the point: “Kakashi, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Did you teach Riku the Shadow Clone jutsu?”

Riku drops his chopsticks, only barely managing to swallow his mouthful of chicken and rice. Tsuru turns her shiny eyes on Miss Kurenai, looking like her birthday and Ninja Christmas have arrived at once. Mariko raises eyebrows at Riku, mouthing shadow clone with a puzzled expression.

Kakashi lowers his book. His eye meets Miss Kurenai’s, but Riku knows he also has his uncle’s attention. “Oh? No, I didn’t. That isn’t really a technique for genin.” He doesn’t look at Riku, but the way he smiles is full of cheerful menace aimed at his nephew. “That wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a demerit for reckless endangerment, would it?”

Riku sinks down in his seat. This is worse than parent-teacher meetings back on the Islands; in those, at least, Riku and his mom were always a united front. Whatever his teacher said might lead to consequences at home for Riku, but right then, his mom never gave the teachers the satisfaction of watching him squirm. That privilege belonged to her and her alone.

Kakashi, on the other hand, seems happy to share it with everyone in the room. Sure, they already knew—Mariko was assigned to babysit him afterward, because Ms. Honda decided he needed supervision like a toddler after that stunt—and Mariko and Tsuru, at least, have demerits of their own. But there’s a difference between knowing something happened and hearing two jounin gossiping about it while Riku has to sit here, red-faced.

Running might work, but he has zero illusions about whether he’s faster than his uncle.

Miss Kurenai raises an eyebrow at Riku. “Well. I don’t know about that.”

Kakashi hums and returns to his book. The menacing air does not recede. Riku’s pretty sure Tsuru’s smirk is a “uh-oh, Riku’s in trouble!” look, while Mariko still seems to be stuck on shadow clones.

Wanting nothing more than to retreat to his room and practice genjutsu on…well, on the shadow clone in question, Riku nonetheless finishes his breakfast. Ms. Honda has terrible things to say about medics who neglect their own health, and while one meal won’t kill him, it isn’t a habit he wants to develop.

When he finishes and washes off his plate, returning it to the cabinet, he’s expecting Kakashi to teleport behind him. Instead, his uncle disappears while his back is turned.

Great. Now he gets to play hide-and-seek with a jounin. Riku looks to Miss Kurenai for clues.

“You remember the downstairs office, I’m sure,” she says.

Riku nods, frowning. That sounds a lot more serious than he thinks the situation warrants, unless his uncle _really_ wants to chew him out for what he did in the second phase. Miss Kurenai was clear on the whole “actions during the Exams don’t get you demerits,” but Kakashi isn’t Riku’s superior, he’s his _uncle_, and that’s a whole different kettle of fish.

Could be worse. Could be his _mom_.

With a resigned air, Riku trudges down, down, down to the formal office in the embassy. Last time, it seemed like there were seals functioning as locks to stop random genin from going all over the place, but all the doors have been left open for him now, including the wall-hanging that normally hides the entrance to the stairs. (Riku takes a moment to examine how it’s pinned up, mostly to delay facing his uncle.) Riku isn’t sure how deeply he should read into that.

Stopping just inside the doorway, Riku finds Kakashi perched on the desk, once again reading, this time a file open in his hand. He’s got one foot on the arm of the chair Riku sat in last time, leaving the other one free. The room is mostly the same as the last few times Riku’s been here, except off to the side, where before there was just a coffee table and an uncomfortable-looking couch underneath a map of Water Country. Now, there’s a TV parked on that table.

“That’s my file, isn’t it?” Riku asks.

Kakashi huffs, eye crinkling despite not looking up. “No, I’m afraid not.”

And then he clams up, just as consumed by that file as his book earlier. Riku gives him a minute, then another, just in case there’s a reason he isn’t speaking up.

A reason beyond being a jerk, anyway. When it’s apparent Kakashi is prepared to wait him out—he isn’t even flipping the pages in the file, so for all that his eye drifts lazily over it, he can’t really be reading—Riku sighs and leans against the door-frame.

“Am I supposed to ask?”

“Hm?” Kakashi blinks at Riku.

Heaving a sigh, Riku says, “What’s that file,” in a flat tone.

“Oh, well, if you’re curious…” Kakashi waves him in, gesturing at the couch to the side. Atop the TV is an old video player, both messy with wires, both wiped clean. Despite that, the smell of mildew and dust clings to the cracks and creases of their frames; someone must have dug them out of storage for Kakashi’s purposes.

Riku steps inside, letting the door close behind him, and takes a seat in front of the TV. It’s off. The VCR isn’t, faintly buzzing in the stillness of the room.

Kakashi joins him, sitting on the armrest with that file still in hand. “The Hokage updated me on your last mission,” he says, conspicuously casual. “Mission objective to locate Sasuke and Sakura.”

Wincing, Riku pulls one leg up close to his body, wrapping an arm around it and pressing his face into his knee. Hiding. “I didn’t. They weren’t there.”

“Mmm, I know.” A pause, and then Kakashi’s hand is on Riku’s head again, patting gently.

Once he pulls away, he gives Riku time to regroup. Riku appreciates it, though he doesn’t need it; it isn’t like failure is something he can cry and then feel better about, something he can deep-breathe away.

Besides, he’d failed before he began; Sakura and Sasuke weren’t there, hadn’t been in Sound since before he arrived. Success was impossible from the outset. It doesn’t sit any easier or sour any less in his mouth.

Kakashi clears his throat, and Riku tips his face up, meeting his gaze. Kakashi sets the file down next to Riku, then leans over and presses a button, turning the TV on.

The screen slowly resolves from darkness to a room, sparsely furnished with just a desk and two beds, viewed from what looks like a camera hidden high in the corner. The room is empty to begin with, until Kakashi presses the play button on the VCR.

The sound quality is tinny, and the image flickers occasionally. Distortions in the form of white lines cross the screen periodically. Still, it’s recognizably Sakura who walks into the room, the top of her pink head unmistakable from this angle. She walks in and flops face-first onto the nearest bed, groan just barely audible through the interference.

Eventually, she pushes herself up and stands, wobbling a bit on her way to the other bed, where she sits normally and stretches out her arms. Riku frowns; he never got much information on what she and Sasuke did in Sound besides leave, but it looks like she was pushing herself too hard. It’s difficult to tell from the poor quality, but her face looks more drawn, a lot more somber than he remembers. There might be bags under her eyes.

During her stretches, the bed she abandoned picks up more interference. Riku doesn’t notice at first, too busy trying to catalogue her condition from a tiny image, but it gets more and more distorted. Before long, that section of the screen is an un-seeable mass, and even Sakura takes notice.

The screen, the recording quality, and the distortions all obliterate fine detail. However Sakura reacts, Riku can only see the larger movements; he can’t tell if her eyes widen or she’s shaking, but he sees her reach under the one pillow on her bed for a knife, which she brandishes at the mass of interference.

She says…something, but Riku doesn’t understand the words. He blinks, then narrows his eyes.

A terrible record-scratch follows, and then Sakura says something else, this time including 何, which Riku knows means “what?” He’s just. Never heard it before, because whatever translates for him takes care of that.

Kakashi must be watching his face, because he pauses the video and says, “We weren’t sure you’d be able to understand her.”

Riku makes a face. “Well, I can’t.” And this is even worse than when he realized he would have to learn to read, to understand the medical terms Anzu kept drilling him on, to understand the medical texts Ms. Honda kept assigning; this is Sakura, in some kind of distress Riku can’t even comprehend, let alone do anything about.

“In the file is a transcript.” Riku scrambles for it; not only is the transcript basic enough for him to understand, but it includes a translation. At Riku’s raised eyebrows, Kakashi says, “Nara Shikamaru. The Hokage would appreciate your input on its accuracy.”

It seems fine to Riku, and when Kakashi un-pauses the recording, his eyes flick from the screen to the page and back.

“Who are you?” Sakura had asked first, followed by “What are you doing here?” Now, she rises, still holding the knife between herself and the pile of distortions that has yet to reveal a shape.

(Her form isn’t terrible, but Riku realizes with a jolt that his is better. Of course, she’s panicking, and no one outside of ANBU, Maito Gai, and Kakashi can be calm and collected in that situation.)

The record-scratch goes on for longer, and Sakura’s posture slowly melts from defensive to cautious. She doesn’t put the knife away, but she lowers it.

When the noise subsides, Sakura says, “But why?”

Another long auditory distortion. Sakura’s posture unbends further.

“Ah,” she says. “Thank you for the offer, then, but…I can’t.”

A shorter burst of sound, and Sakura starts shaking her head partway through, saying, “No, no.” (There’s another word Riku recognizes without the transcript. いいえ. He mouths it along with her.)

“Thank you,” Sakura says again when the sound finishes, and she bows, “but I must decline.”

The sound returns, just briefly, and when it leaves, it takes the visual interference with it. The lines and pixelations on that section of the image slowly recede, revealing more and more of the bed until it’s all there.

“Can this rewind?” Riku asks, eyeing the VCR dubiously.

Kakashi chuckles and presses a button with two backwards arrows. “Press play to stop it.”

Riku watches the recording in reverse, waiting until all the interference again disappears, then hits play, then pause. He eyes the other bed, trying to memorize the shape of the blanket on top after Sakura mussed it.

Then he fast-forwards—on the opposite side of the play button from rewind, not hard to figure out—back to the part of the recording when the bed was again visible.

“Something was there,” he says, after a long few seconds of scrutiny. “The blanket looks different. See?”

Kakashi nods. “That was ANBU’s analysis as well.” Eye crinkles. “Good job!”

Riku spares him a flat look. Kakashi doesn’t often patronize him, so if he is now, there must be a reason.

“Any other observations?”

Turning back to the screen, Riku eyes Sakura. She looks…well, he’d say rattled, but that’s more a hunch than evidence-based; he can’t make out enough detail for certainty, but her posture, her expression, her somewhat-jerky movements once he restarts the recording…

“Whatever that was,” he says slowly, “or whoever it was, she wasn’t expecting it or what they told her. She didn’t expect their offer.”

“And she turned it down,” Kakashi says.

“Hmm.” Riku leans back against the couch, letting the video play out to the end—Sakura starts brushing her hair and the recording hits static. Kakashi mutes the TV but doesn’t turn it off, eye heavy on Riku.

Kakashi doesn’t interrupt Riku’s thoughts, instead pulling out the book from earlier. While Kakashi reads, Riku stews.

Sakura looks decent. Not like Orochimaru threw her in the same “training program” he drafted Riku into. She’s still in the same style of clothes Riku remembers her in, long red dress, though she picked up some gloves. No headband, and Riku can guess at her reasons, but does it matter if she was uncomfortable wearing the Sound symbol?

No physical injuries he could pick out. Stress, possibly, and stiff or sore muscles, hence the stretching. She doesn’t look beaten-down, but it’s not like all abuse is visible.

No personal effects in the room. Because Orochimaru forbade them, or because she avoided any sign of vulnerability?

Two beds, and she made a point of getting off the other, so she must have shared the room. With Sasuke, or someone else? A plant, like Karin, meant to keep an eye on her?

Riku sighs and turns to face his uncle. Kakashi obligingly lowers the book.

“Why did Sound give me this?”

Kakashi hums. “What do you think?”

Scowling—he asked Kakashi first, but he knows better than to press his uncle for an answer—Riku says, “Maybe they thought I’d get something out of it that they missed?” He sounds doubtful even to himself; all the high-ranked Sound ninja he’s interacted with have seemed full of themselves. Would any of them be capable of admitting they missed something?

Kakashi just raises his eyebrow.

Groaning, because this is either an exercise or a test and either way it’s super annoying, Riku thinks out loud, “Maybe they just wanted me to see her? They know I was there looking for her and Sasuke, and the girl, Sasame, made it pretty obvious they have a lot more recordings. Since no one knows where she or Sasuke are, these are all anyone has.”

“Ah,” Kakashi says, and gives Riku a patently fake smile under his mask, “young love? Interesting idea.”

Riku sputters. “No, that’s not—”

“Didn’t you date her best friend?”

“That has nothing to do with—”

“Why, Riku,” and Kakashi leans forward, emanating evil glee, “I never would have suspected! I certainly never would have left the two of you alone for so many private tutoring sessions…”

“Don’t say it like that!” Riku near-shouts, voice breaking on the second word and then again on the last, like he’s just started puberty. His face feels peeling-skin-sunburn hot, and one flailing elbow catches the back of the couch while the other hand bangs into the solid side of the TV.

Kakashi, damn him, just leans back, laughing his head off.

He goes on like that for a good while, too. Long enough for Riku to get himself under control. Long enough for Riku to process his embarrassment and move past it, into sharp irritation.

“Are you done yet?” he asks poisonously. “It wasn’t that funny.”

Kakashi waves a hand at him. “I’m sure you don’t think so. Hmm. I doubt Gai would appreciate it, either…” Kakashi trails off, looking thoughtful.

Riku mercilessly derails whatever that thought might be. “Why do you think they gave me this?”

“Oh, it’s a bribe and a threat, of course.” He blinks at Riku as if this is obvious. At Riku’s raised eyebrow challenge, he says, “You included in one of your reports a mention of a key, yes? And you used it in Sound. Well, here,” he nods to the TV, the VCR, the tape cradled within, “you have proof that Sound had surveillance in Sakura’s bedroom. And you have a clue to Sakura’s whereabouts: she received some kind of offer. She turned it down in this tape, but if there are so many others…”

“Not that that does any good,” Riku points out, “if I can’t see or hear who made the offer, or what it really was.”

Kakashi smiles, a genuine, if small, expression. “And that’s why the recordings are worthless enough for Sound to give them away. Assuming, of course, that they didn’t create the distortion themselves.”

“They can do that?”

Kakashi shrugs. “Intelligence is looking into it.”

“What’s the point of any of this, then?”

“What did they say when they gave you the tape?”

“That I could have the rest, if I said yes. They wouldn’t tell me to what, though.”

Kakashi nods. “Then that’s the point. To get you to agree to something. Maybe something small, something harmless.” He pointedly lowers his gaze to where Kairi’s necklace lays, over Riku’s shirt because the embassy is safe. “Once you agree to one thing, it starts you down a path. Orochimaru is very familiar with that method of recruitment—it’s what he used on Sasuke.”

Making a face, Riku says, “I don’t have any reason to join Sound, though. I don’t want power or revenge, and my family’s in Konoha and the Islands. Why would I ever choose Sound?”

With a shrug, Kakashi rises to his feet, disappearing his book to some pocket Riku doesn’t see. “By not realizing you’re making the choice until it’s too late. And you do want something Sound can provide—these clues about Sakura and Sasuke.”

“Not enough to leave Konoha.”

“Hm. Maybe Orochimaru is hoping to convince you.”

Riku stares. Just. _Stares_ at Kakashi, until his uncle gives a little cough and says, “I didn’t say it would _work_, Riku. But you should keep your guard up. He will try something.”

It isn’t what Riku wants to hear; he wants his uncle to tell him there’s no way whatever Orochimaru’s trying will work. He wants Kakashi to tell him he’s smart enough or trustworthy enough to _not_ need to worry. (He wants, on some level, for Kakashi to reassure him he isn’t just the next in line after Sakura and Sasuke.)

He wants to hear that Kakashi _trusts him_, and he doesn’t know how to ask for that without sounding stupid, or silly, or suspicious. So he doesn’t say anything, just clenches his jaw and nods.

Riku rises, glancing at the TV, then asks, “Was that all?”

A pause, and then a nod. “Until we get more information. The tape will go to the Intelligence division—they might be able to clean up some of the interference. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Right.” He’ll hear about it, one way or another, so there’s no point in worrying. He can’t help Sakura right now. The best he can do is put in a decent effort in the Finals, although with the bracket he’s got, he’s not too thrilled with his chances.

It _figures_, that he’d heal Kimimaro and then have to face the guy in single combat.

And speaking of… “Are you going to stick around for the Finals?”

Kakashi stares at him blankly for long enough that Riku starts to wonder if his uncle even knew he had qualified. Then the man smiles his insincere smile and says, “Why, of course I’m staying. I have to root for my favorite nephew, don’t I? Some uncle I’d be, if I didn’t.”

Either Kakashi really didn’t know he qualified and is trying to play it off, or something else just happened and Riku has no clue what.

Riku already has enough to deal with—the Finals, Sound, now this, and of course the ongoing problem of what he’ll do _after_ the Exams (which he’s been avoiding thinking too hard about). Kakashi’s issues are way too complex for Riku to try to wade through right now. He takes his uncle at his word and smiles. “I’ll try not to embarrass myself, then, I guess.”

“Don’t try too hard,” Kakashi says, and there might be an edge to his voice. Some kind of weird tone that Riku can’t read. He’s still got his cheerful face on. “Collecting embarrassing stories is an uncle’s privilege.”

“Pretty sure that’s just parents,” Riku says with genuine fondness. “Uncles are supposed to be the cool ones that let you pretend the embarrassing stuff didn’t happen.”

“Ah, no, I don’t think that’s right.”

“Nah, it is. Ask _anybody_.”

The rest of the morning gets sidetracked because his uncle _does_, he asks _everybody_, and keeps a little tally, and some people tell the truth (that Riku’s right), but enough look from uncle to nephew and get shit-eating grins before telling _bald-faced lies_ that they wind up with a tie and Kakashi decides he gets to be tiebreaker and do what he wants.

(He planned it that way, Riku’s sure, but he’s also sure that his uncle will never admit it.)

///

Kakashi continues to hang around the embassy. Riku’s half-convinced there’s some mission keeping his uncle in place, but if Kakashi doesn’t want to share, there isn’t much Riku can do to make him.

Hinata is more nervous with Kakashi watching her, even though he tells her repeatedly he’s just there to observe Riku. It doesn’t affect her performance, really, just how she talks the training through with Riku. She’s less keen to point out his mistakes, emphasizing the praise; when she tries to explain any ideas for what they can focus on, her eyes stray to Kakashi, checking for his reaction. It’s annoying.

It’s no less annoying (though maybe useful, just the once) when Kakashi sits in on Riku’s morning conversations with Hinata. Riku doesn’t even _try_ telling the man to butt out, sure that Kakashi has some excuse ready that Riku won’t be able to contradict. Instead, Riku just grits his teeth and tries to ignore his uncle.

The one time it’s useful is another slow morning, Riku and Hinata on the roof, Kakashi parked a distance away and theoretically reading his book in the dim light of false dawn. (Riku’s been having trouble sleeping, but Hinata doesn’t call him out on it when he beats her to the roof by nearly an hour, and neither does Kakashi. Zoning out staring into the sky is _almost_ as good as sleeping, anyway.)

“I never expected to become the Hokage’s apprentice,” Hinata admits quietly from where she sits with her back pressed against the fence, on the tail end of a conversation about expectations and the future. “I didn’t even think I would study medical ninjutsu.”

Riku startles at that, not badly enough to lose his seat on top of the railing. “What? But you’re a close-range fighter, and your chakra control is great. Why _wouldn’t_ you study medical ninjutsu?”

Even Gai knows some. Lee, of course, doesn’t, although he makes up for it with knowledge of non-jutsu first aid. Tenten has tried, but she’s nearly as bad as Lee; Riku and Neji have actually spent a few weekends studying together, because the precise chakra control necessary to use the Byakugan in combat naturally lends itself to medical ninjutsu. Also, _someone_ on that team needs to be able to patch the others up.

Riku’s taught most of Naruto’s friends a few basic medical jutsu, but Neji wanted more than that, although not quite as much as he’d get studying under a _real_ medic-nin. Notably, Riku has _not_ taught Hinata, because when he offered to teach Shino and Kiba, Hinata was out of the village.

Now, she shrugs. “I learned some, t-to patch myself up, mostly. But nothing like what _you_ can do. It wasn’t what I wanted.” She stares down at her hands. “I thought, if I learned it, I’d never leave the village.”

To Riku, that’s a fate worse than death: to be stuck in one place, unable to leave. Even the thought makes him twitchy, like he wants to run away from the very idea of it. “Ugh. I don’t blame you, then. What changed your mind?”

Hinata turns her face up to look at him; when he looks back, she’s smiling. “I spoke with Lady Tsunade. She said I could stay on my team, that I could go on missions with them. I’ll have to work in the hospital, too, but not all the time.”

Riku nods. “That’s what Shizune does. She goes on missions and assists the Hokage, but she’s at the hospital once a week, consulting.” _He’s_ never worked with her—lowly medical students are lucky to pass the Hokage’s protégé in the halls—but he’s seen her. (Before Tsuru fell madly in love with Anzu, she had a crush on Shizune, for which Riku still gives her the appropriate amount of teasing.)

“Yes, it’ll be like that.” Hinata looks at him. “Why did _you_ decide to study medical ninjutsu? Was it when you worked at the hospital?”

Riku shrugs. “A little. I like helping people. And I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s not like that leaves me a whole lot of choices.”

Like Ms. Honda, Hinata seems put off by that assertion. “Y-you don’t think there are other jobs, outside of combat, for ninja?”

“Well, I didn’t want to be a teacher, so…”

Hinata stands up at that; Riku blinks at her as she faces him head-on and draws up to her full height. “You can do _much_ more than that. You can take rescue missions, you could be a courier, you could work in Intelligence, o-or in an embassy like this, you can take escort missions to make sure people stay safe—”

“Most of those involve combat,” Riku points out. “So do a lot of rescue missions. Trust me, I go in and read them to see if there are any I _can_ do.” Natural disasters are beyond his skillset most of the time, so he has to pass most rescue missions up. Hinata looks geared-up to give him more ideas, but Riku waves her off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s my problem to deal with.”

“She’s right, you know,” Kakashi says later, after Hinata’s left for whatever duties she has besides helping Riku train. Riku’s confused until his uncle clarifies, “Hinata’s right that you have options besides being a medic-nin. She’s also right about that dodge; drop your elbow like that in actual combat, and you’ll be lucky to walk away with just a broken nose.”

Hinata had bopped Riku’s, to prove she could get to it; Riku resists the urge to cover it self-consciously.

Tone defensive, Riku says, “I never said she was wrong.”

“Of course not, of course not.” Kakashi holds his hands up in placation.

“I _didn’t_.”

“I just agreed with you!”

Riku walks away grumbling.

After a few more days of chaperoning Riku and Hinata’s conversations and training, Kakashi cuts it out, in favor of sitting in on genjutsu practice. That puts _Mariko_ on edge, while Tsuru goes out of her way to show off. Given their near-equal lack of skill with genjutsu, that doesn’t work well, so by the end of training all three genin are stressed and irritable.

Normally, Kakashi makes himself scarce afterward, but he’s a little slow on the last Thursday before the Finals, and Riku catches him with a “Hey, wait a sec.”

He’d completely forgotten his plan to pump Kakashi for information until Tsuru asked, pointedly, whether he’s made any progress on “that refugee chick.”

“Hm?” The little orange book makes a reappearance—it never comes out during genjutsu practice, for all that Kakashi often looks bored, picking at his nails or examining the drapery in the room instead of watching the genin.

Riku waits for the door to shut behind the girls before he says, “I came across something the other day and I was wondering if you might know more.” (He only practiced that three times in front of a mirror, trying to sound curious but not super invested.)

Kakashi looks amused, which might be good. “I know about all sorts of things. Want to narrow that down?”

Flushing, Riku says, “Oh, yeah, uh. It was a name. Kushina? She sounded like a really powerful ninja, so I thought you might’ve heard of her.”

Riku’s watching for his uncle’s reaction. Kakashi twitches, just slightly, at the name; his fingers go tight, bending the cover and audibly crinkling the pages; it’s hard to tell with so much of his face covered, but Riku thinks he blanches.

A breath later—before Riku even finishes speaking—and that’s all gone: Kakashi’s eye curves in a fake smile, his little book tucked away to hide the damage. “Kushina? I’m afraid she’s before my time. I heard the name, of course, but I can’t tell you much more than that.” A pause—as if he’s trying to recall any other details—and then he asks, “Where’d you come across that name? I don’t think she ever came here.”

Riku fights not to react to that; first, Kakashi says he can’t say much about her, then he’s familiar with which embassies (or ninja villages) she might have visited? “It was in some book. It didn’t say much, though.” Not technically a lie, and Riku hopes it comes across as sincere. He changes the subject quickly, just in case Kakashi starts to catch on. “Huh, I guess you don’t know everything after all.”

Kakashi snorts and reaches over to ruffle his hair. “I don’t need to know everything to know more than _you_, little nephew.” He keeps rubbing at Riku’s head, giving him a noogie, until Riku’s hair is well and truly messed up, ignoring Riku’s protests and attempts to shove him away.

“Hey, cut it out!” When Kakashi finally does, Riku glares at him, finger-combing his hair and wincing at all the tangles Kakashi’s created.

Kakashi laughs at him—not on the outside, but on the inside. Riku can see it in his eye, in his face; in his soul, Kakashi finds amusement in irritating his nephew. Faced with that, the only winning play Riku has is to walk away.

///

Riku wakes up the day of the Finals and intensely misses Sakura.

Maybe the recording stirred up old memories. Maybe it’s because they went to the Finals in Konoha together. Maybe it’s that he wants someone who knew him from when he _first_ came to Konoha to see how far he’s come.

Tsuru and Kakashi will be in the stands cheering for him (probably metaphorically in his uncle’s case, but the intent will still be there); Gai is back home preparing Tenten, Lee, and Neji for their own Exams; Ms. Honda and Anzu are too busy in the hospital to make it. His mom and his friends from the Islands _can’t_ just turn up in Mist, and anyway, he kind of purposefully avoided going back there after Sound, so the last any of them heard, he was still unsure which Exams he and his team would go to, and it’s not like “Kiri” or “Suna” or even “Konoha” mean anything to Sora and Kairi.

He could tell them he took his Exams on the moon and it wouldn’t be any less realistic than anything else he’s told them. They _might_ ask how he got to it.

Since he’s going up against Karin and, maybe, Kimimaro, neither of whom he trusts even a little bit, Riku leaves Kairi’s necklace with Tsuru’s things. _Just in case_. He tucks it into the file on Uzumaki Kushina before returning to his room for final preparations.

Staff, check. Knives, throwing stars, check, check. Bracers, check. Medical supplies no longer secreted away in seals he won’t have time to get to in the middle of a fight? Yup, he’s moved those into a second pack on his hip and practiced enough that he (probably) won’t accidentally bang into it. Mostly, he’s just packed bandages and disinfectant in a sturdy bottle, so it should be fine.

Miss Kurenai came to him the previous night, privately, where none of the others could see and tease him. She held out a mask similar to Kakashi’s, in black to go with Riku’s color scheme.

“It’s a gift,” she said, holding it out, “not an obligation. Whether or not you wear it tomorrow, I want you to know that you earned your place in that arena.”

What she didn’t say, but plainly meant, was _you deserve a chance to prove you’re a chuunin_. The mask is a comparison, and Miss Kurenai thinks he’s ready for that, thinks he’s earned it. He isn’t at Kakashi’s level, of course, nowhere close, but if he wears the mask, everyone in the audience will make the connection, beyond the hair and the name.

Riku took it, as a gift, not an obligation. Now, he eyes it one last time before tugging it on, noting how lightweight it is, how breathable. When he steps out into the hall, he realizes with a start that it blocks out scents—this deep in the embassy, he can ordinarily pick out his teammates, the regular embassy chuunin and jounin, the distant smell of the sea. Now, all that is gone, leaving Riku blessedly unaffected for the first time in his memory.

Almost dizzy with the lack of sensation—in a good way—Riku decides to make himself a light breakfast, fruit and rice that would offend most of his friends’ sensibilities if they were in the kitchen this early. After, he waits for his team in the embassy lobby. He only warmed up, rather than his full morning routine, so he beats his team by about half an hour and settles in against a wall to wait, sitting cross-legged and half-covered by the drapery.

Not five minutes later, the drape pulls away, and he looks up to see his uncle, eyebrow raised like he’s caught Riku at something. “Hiding?”

“No. Just waiting.”

“Hm.” His uncle looks at him, then lets go of the drape, which slides back into place and yes, okay, Riku’s pretty obscured. With the drape pooling over his head, his silver hair isn’t visible, leaving the bottom of his shirt and his pants exposed. The yellow on the front of his shirt isn’t as bright as he wore on the Islands, and the lobby is full of warm earth tones that this shade blends into well enough; his black pants might stand out, except they’re hidden in the meager shadows of the drape.

Fine, he was kind of hiding. He isn’t in his _room_, hyperventilating under the bed or in the closet; he’s fine. He’s done nothing wrong.

Kakashi shrugs, says, “Move over,” and sits down next to him, tugging the drape so Riku’s fully covered and Kakashi’s tucked up against his side.

Riku pulls his knees up to his chest so even his feet don’t peak out, wraps his arms around his legs, and hides his face. He doesn’t know what to say at first, and when he does, his “Thanks,” comes out a bit hoarse.

Kakashi just hums, doesn’t say anything. He’s warm, near enough that Riku can feel him as a solid presence right there, stationed between Riku and the door, facing it with his good eye. Anything tries to come through that door, Kakashi’s gonna see it, and he’s gonna deal with it before it gets to Riku.

“This is so dumb,” Riku mumbles into his knees. “Nothing even _happened_ to me.”

At that, Kakashi’s hand descends on his shoulder, solid weight, warmth, contact. Just a moment, and then the hand retreats, leaving cold in its wake. “You were scared, and you had every right to be,” he says softly, soft enough that the half-asleep chuunin who hasn’t yet been relieved from her graveyard shift might not hear. She hadn’t noticed Riku setting up camp in the drapes, after all. She probably wouldn’t notice an invasion marching straight through—

Riku groans, presses his face harder against his knees. He sees spots against his eyelids, but he doesn’t stop.

“I was scared,” Kakashi says, and that, that makes Riku stop. His breath catches, and when he pulls his head up to look at his uncle, his vision is blurry at the edges.

“You were not,” he says, less an accusation than incomprehension. “You—you’re—you weren’t scared.”

Kakashi’s eye faces away from him, so all Riku gets is a cloth-covered profile. He thinks his uncle’s lips twitch under his mask, though.

“I was very scared,” his uncle says, with no trace of hesitation, embarrassment, or shame. “My village was unexpectedly invaded by an army, my students were separated and fighting adults with many times their experience, and my nephew was nowhere to be found.”

Riku flushes, grateful that his mask must hide most of it. Kakashi isn’t looking at him, anyway. He presses one cheek into his knee, examining his uncle’s profile sideways like that might make more sense.

“I didn’t know. You didn’t seem like you were scared.”

Kakashi laughs. “Practice. And you were exhausted, that made it easier.”

“Oh. Well. Sorry for scaring you.”

Shaking his head, Kakashi says, “That wasn’t my point. You looked after yourself and did what you needed to do—no need to apologize for that, I couldn’t have asked for more.”

“Well,” Riku starts, but then gets stuck trying to figure out how he could’ve told Kakashi where he would be when, as far as he remembers, he hadn’t _known_ where he was or was headed at any point after the invasion.

Starting with the weird dream, really.

“Exactly,” Kakashi says, laughter back in his voice. “My _point_, though, is that it’s okay to be afraid.”

Riku straightens, sure he knows where this is going. He spent half his childhood reading fantasies and the other half acting them out; he knows the beginnings of a stirring speech on bravery. “What matters is what I do about it, right? It’s my actions that define me?”

At that, Kakashi turns his head to look at Riku. His expression is…amused. Fond, maybe. Sincere. “If that’s what you want to hear. I was thinking more that, if you’d like, I’ll stand between the Kage box and the arena.”

Riku blinks at his uncle. Thinks about the logistics of that for a bit. “I’m pretty sure they won’t let you do that.”

Kakashi’s clear amusement cuts through his attempt to look wounded. “Are you doubting my abilities?”

In that moment, Riku knows, one hundred percent, that if he tells his uncle that’s what he needs, Kakashi will figure out a way to make it happen. Maybe he’ll stick to the side of the box just under whatever window or railing they have here in Mist, ready to leap up if Orochimaru tries anything. Maybe he’ll camp on the roof. Maybe he’ll hang out with the competitors, silently daring anyone to tell _him_ to leave.

He’ll do it. Knowing that is enough.

Riku shakes his head, then leans over, giving his uncle a quick, one-armed hug. “Thanks. You don’t need to do that. Just…maybe stand where I can see you?”

“Of course.” Kakashi pats the top of his head. Annoying, but not as bad as a hair-ruffle would be. “How else will you know I cheered for you?” Then his eye drops a bit, and there’s that amusement in his face again. “By the way, you have excellent taste in masks.”

Groaning, Riku goes back to hiding his face in his knees. “Miss Kurenai gave it to me. She said it might come in handy. It looks dumb, doesn’t it?”

He’d thought about asking Tsuru but decided he couldn’t really trust her answer. She would _absolutely_ let him look dumb if she thought it was hilarious. For that matter, he doesn’t trust Kakashi’s quick, “No, no, it makes you look mature!”

(For a brief moment, Riku regrets breaking up with Ino almost as much as he misses Sakura: either of _them_ would tell him the truth.)

A pause, and then Kakashi adds, “I’m sure Hyuuga Hanabi will think so, too.”

This lands like a belly-flop: Riku gets that there’s a joke at his expense, but he genuinely doesn’t get _what that joke is_. “Uh. Who?”

It’s Kakashi’s turn to blink. “Hyuuga Hanabi? Hinata’s little sister?” Riku shrugs. As far as he’s concerned, Hinata’s family is basically just her, some amorphous father-head-of-the-clan, and her cousin Neji.

Kakashi looks taken aback, and then affronted. “Riku. The poor girl stalked you for _weeks_, and you don’t even know her _name_?”

“Wait, _what_? You’re making that up, no one _stalked_ me in Konoha!”

Shaking his head sadly, in exaggerated fashion, Kakashi says, “She’ll be devastated. All that time she spent following you around, staring at you, and you had no idea.”

Riku huffs and pushes himself to his feet, scowling down at his uncle. (The drape falling directly over his face rather ruins the effect, but he pushes it out of the way and continues to scowl.) “I don’t believe any of that. I don’t even know that Hinata _has_ a sister.”

Kakashi follows him up, all offended on this probably-fictional girl’s account. “She does. You can ask her yourself.” Okay, then there is a sister, but no way did she _stalk Riku_. “You really should work on your situational awareness, oh nephew mine. Maybe I’ll help, when we get back to the village.” And Kakashi grins at that thought.

Motive established, because “work on situational awareness” is _absolutely_ code for “jump out at Riku, throw stuff at him from weird angles, wake him up unexpectedly, and _who knows what else_,” which sounds more like Kakashi giving himself a birthday present than doing any kind of favor for Riku. Maybe Riku bumped into this “Hyuuga Hanabi” once or twice, and that gave Kakashi the idea.

And now he’s using this girl Riku doesn’t know, making up a weird story about her just to give himself a pretext to scare his nephew. Honestly. Some people. Riku doesn’t dignify his uncle with any attention, after that.

(Well. When they have to split, competitors going one way and audience members another, Riku gives him another quick hug. Anyway, it doesn’t count: Tsuru immediately piles on, unable to help herself, and she tugs Mariko over to press against them, and even Miss Kurenai pats everyone’s shoulder.)

///

Riku’s fight is last, so he gets to lean against the railing and watch one Mist-nin—the older guy on Pointy Teeth Lady’s team—wreck a younger Mist-nin, followed by Pointy Teeth Lady herself (Shun, apparently) getting wrecked in turn by Atsui, who once more demonstrates setting his _sword_ on _fire_.

He’s officially who Riku wants to be when he grows up. (Well. Not _really_, but it’s a cool trick. Kakashi probably knows how to do it, but Riku sets aside his idea to ask his uncle about…well, anything substantial, really, at least until he gives up on his “situational awareness” idea. Anything Riku asks him for can and will be used as collateral against him, and he has enough to deal with without adding all _that_.)

///

Mariko walks into her fight with Kimimaro with all the knowledge and conjecture Riku could give her.

It isn’t enough.

Mariko can be determined in a fight—she can be _mean_, can try to win at all costs—but in terms of ability, Tsuru is adequate and Mariko is indifferent. If she’d spent the same amount of time training as Riku did, she might have…well, not stood a chance, but given a better showing.

She starts with projectiles, keeping her distance, and Kimimaro dodges these while moving closer, forcing her to keep backing up or changing directions. Riku can see the moment where her irritation outweighs her caution. It’s the moment she loses.

Kimimaro moves in, and Mariko matches him, brass knuckles gleaming on her upraised fists. Unlike Tsuru, she sees the flash of bone coming at her (Kimimaro extends it out of his wrist in one motion) and tries to avoid it.

The bone slices through the light padding in her shirt, leaving a bloody cut in her side. Mariko, footing out of order, tries to uppercut and doesn’t avoid Kimimaro’s kick to her right leg. She’s sent to one knee, wincing, hands up in a guard to protect her head.

Kimimaro doesn’t lay his sword on her shoulder. He plunges it in, uses it as a handle while she screams, jerks her to the side with it. Her hands grasp at it, try to tug it out. A second sword slides out of his other wrist, and _that_ he lays on her opposite shoulder, her neck now unprotected.

The proctor—a different man than the one from the elimination round—calls the victory before Mariko can surrender. That may help her swallow the defeat.

If Riku beats Karin, this is his next opponent: a man who went through both his teammates to face him.

A couple medics collect Mariko, and once they and Kimimaro have cleared out, the proctor announces Riku and Karin’s match. There’s some murmuring at their names, and an expectant hush falls over the stadium.

Riku meets Karin in the center of the arena. Unlike Konoha’s, Kiri’s arena sports no trees, although there’s some brush; a third of the area is marshy, while the rest is mostly flat, mostly muddy, not thick enough to make Riku’s sandals stick, but enough to make the unwary skid and slide.

When the proctor opens the match and takes himself off, Karin doesn’t bother pretending like she’s going to fight. Her arms cross over her chest, hip cocked, whole posture radiating a supreme lack of concern. Riku keeps his grip on his staff steady, ready for a sudden lunge, but he knows better.

“One question,” she says, eyeing Riku.

“I can’t really stop you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’d like an _answer_, though. You weren’t nearly this annoying before.”

Riku bites his tongue rather than say _You mean when I thought we were friends_? His expression must betray him: her face goes soft the way it had in the room Sasame dragged him to.

“Your necklace. Did you get it from someone special?”

Riku stares at her, and stares, and stares some more. Finally, when she starts tapping her foot—Karin’s never handled her impatience well—he says, “You can’t expect me to answer that.”

She sweeps a look over him, once, critically, then shrugs. “It was worth asking.” Then she turns and waves her arm at the proctor. “Hey, proctor, I forfeit!” And without waiting for a confirmation, she leaps out of the arena, leaving Riku in the middle of it, reeling, feeling like he’d lost something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And at this point, Riku has caught up with everything foreshadowed in _the best people_, so go check that out if you wanna see the paper trail our boy's actions have generated. (As a note, paper trail is set just after Phase 2 of the Exams, and does not include any additional info from the month since.)
> 
> Next week marks the end of this fic, btw -- I upped the chapter count because the epilogue will be its own chapter, but I'll be posting them both at the same time. We're almost done!! (In somewhat-related news, I'll be posting the oneshot _Day Trip_ the week after next -- it bridges the gap between _tailspin_ and _Girl with a Key_. It's looking like I'll be able to start posting that one in early December, fingers crossed.)
> 
> This story will end **next weekend**, on November 23-24. Until then, thanks for reading!!


	10. rather than fight, give in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riku vs. Kimimaro, and the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is a _smidge_ late, and that is 100% because I got Pokemon Sword. Let's all take a moment of silence to mourn my productivity on just, like, everything.
> 
> Chapter title from the fourth stanza of the poem "The Tailspin," by Edward Field:
> 
> In panic we want to push the stick away from the spin,  
wrestle the plane out of it,  
but the trick is, as in everything,  
to go with the turn willingly,  
rather than fight, give in, go with it,  
and that way come out of your tailspin whole.
> 
> **Content notes:** Injury/blood, ninja politics.

Mariko, Riku tells himself, will be fine. It isn’t like Gai, whose surgery left him alive but damaged. Mariko is younger, and the injury is less severe. She’ll be _fine_.

(Kimimaro plunged his bone-sword into Mariko’s shoulder. Which joints had he pierced, scraped, damaged? Had he cut through the muscles and tendons; did he go through the bone? Riku doesn’t know, couldn’t see from the angle he was at, can’t hope to diagnose his teammate from this distance, from a memory.

He should be _with her_. He could heal her like _that_, and who cares what anybody knows or thinks, she’d be okay. He did it for some random Mist-nin and didn’t think twice about it, but because Riku has his own match, he’s just going to let her suffer…?)

Tsunade is here. She’ll make sure Mariko is fine. She won’t let sub-par Mist medics botch the surgery of one of _her_ genin. Mariko’s condition is stable, and as soon as the Exams are over, the Hokage will fix her right up.

(Riku _asked_ Mariko to come.)

He can’t be angry, walking into a fight with Kimimaro, because he’s now certain that Kimimaro is not only better than him—he and Kimimaro are not even _close_ to equals. The only time Riku’s ever had the advantage over the young man was when the guy was comatose and bedridden—and, honestly, the first was more critical than the second. It’s possible Kimimaro could have murdered Riku even in that state, had he only been awake.

So. Yeah. Riku can’t let himself get angry; if he’s angry, he won’t think, and then he will _die_.

(The last time he saw Sora and Kairi was _months_ ago, before getting Kairi’s necklace back, before _Sound_. He can’t. He can’t die now. He can’t even risk dying.)

He must be cautious, not reckless. Not sick with guilt, or worry, or fear.

(His uncle’s watching from the stands. Riku caught sight of that shock of silver hair as close to the Kage box as any spectators can get. Kakashi waved; Riku raised a hand in acknowledgement and swallowed bile. How would _Kakashi_ react, if, right in front of him, Kimimaro seriously injured Riku, let alone anything worse?)

“Maybe you will present a challenge,” Kimimaro says softly, tonelessly, after the proctor opens the match.

Deep breath. Staff in hand, one end up, ready to guard. He won’t win, but he can prove himself. Range is _his_ friend in this fight, not Kimimaro’s. So long as Riku keeps him at distance, he keeps the advantage. _He_ has the control. He needs to use it to keep Kimimaro from debilitating him.

All he has to do is prove himself. (Thanks to Karin, he _has to_ do that in this fight. He won’t get promoted on the strength of an enemy forfeiting the match so quickly.) As soon as he’s put on a good show, he can give up.

(And if he does, then he beats his teammate who is even now lying in a clinic bed. This could be Mariko’s last shot at the Chuunin Exams, and Riku’s going to steal that from her?)

Kimimaro looks bored as he draws closer to Riku, his circling perfunctory. Riku turns to keep from being flanked but doesn’t surrender any ground—if Kimimaro forces his back against a wall, he’s done for. He needs all the space behind him for when Kimimaro attacks and he needs to retreat.

A lunge, too fast to follow, and without any hand-seals. Kimimaro isn’t body-flickering, he is _just that fast_. Riku catches the bone-sword in a parry more by luck than skill: he moves his staff to intercept a stab on the same trajectory that got Tsuru a month ago.

Riku doesn’t counterstrike, very aware of where Kimimaro’s other hand is, unwilling to give him any opening to exploit with a second weapon. Instead, he disengages, keeps his staff ready to block a wide range of angles.

Kimimaro closes, again, and Riku blocks that, too. And the next strike. And the next. Kimimaro isn’t quite aiming for where Riku’s staff already is; he’s aiming for spaces Riku can easily move his staff into—and, with the speed he showed moments ago, that’s a choice Kimimaro’s making.

Still cautious, Riku follows one block up with a lunge of his own, for Kimimaro’s shoulder. Kimimaro ducks under the blow, steps in, sword moving for Riku’s vulnerable midsection.

Riku changes his grip, brings his staff close to his body to block, like how he blocked Noboru in the preliminary match—and Kimimaro backs off.

He doesn’t have to; even without pulling a second sword out of his body, Riku can think of three different attacks he could’ve tried. Riku can think of them _because_ Kimimaro gives him the space and time to think again.

Riku frowns at him. Is this a predator playing with its food before eating, or is this a test of some kind, or something else altogether?

Two, three, _four_ more times, Kimimaro gets close enough to make Riku sweat, then backs off. He comes in from different angles, uses a feint the third time and then his second sword the fourth, but each time, he. Backs. Off. Without leaving so much as a scratch!

And Riku? Riku gets angrier each time. He hasn’t _earned_ this, hasn’t forced Kimimaro to move away, hasn’t demonstrated that level of skill. If Gai were here, his teacher would know it instantly. Miss Kurenai…might. She _is_ a jounin.

Kakashi must. The Hokage must—_Orochimaru_ must know.

The fifth time Kimimaro gets close, twin swords both blocked by Riku’s staff close enough to his body that Kimimaro could feasibly _headbutt_ him, the young man says, _very_ softly, “I could forfeit.” A statement. An offer.

_When the time comes, say yes_, Kimimaro and Karin both said. _It’s pretty simple_, Karin said.

_I could forfeit_. Riku pushes Kimimaro away, then steps back himself, scowling.

_I could forfeit_. That’s the game Kimimaro’s playing; that’s what all this is. A bit of playacting, as real as Riku and Sora’s fights with wooden swords on the Islands. As serious as the fight that ended with blood, with Riku cradling Sora in his arms.

Kakashi would know. Tsunade might. Orochimaru would. _Say yes_. If he says yes, he’ll get the tapes, some evidence of Sakura and Sasuke’s time in Sound. He might even find a clue as to where they are now.

Kakashi said, a year ago now, _you’ll be considered a security risk at best, and compromised at worst. People will think you’re a spy for Cloud. They’ll treat you with suspicion_. All that, for sparing someone’s life when Riku gained nothing from it.

If Riku takes this offer and gets _promoted_? After two of his uncle’s students ran off to Sound? Sure, not many people would _know_ it was set up, just like not many people _know_ Sakura and Sasuke went to Sound willingly. But they’d suspect. They’d talk, and make up their minds, and decide he was some kind of traitor, some kind of spy.

Riku narrows his eyes and, when Kimimaro approaches next, abandons caution. He attacks, swinging his staff all the way from his hip, with all the momentum _and_ all the openings that gives him.

Kimimaro hesitates, dodges the strike with a roll. A lesser opponent—someone actually _at_ Riku’s level, more or less—wouldn’t be able to. Someone at that level _might_ have been able to deflect it with a block.

A lunge, but slower than Kimimaro’s capable of, giving Riku time to recover and deal with it. He steps around Kimimaro, pulling his staff back into a guard stance.

Kimimaro is good. He’s _really_ good. Good enough to beat Riku, good enough to kill Riku—not Kakashi or Gai’s level yet, but maybe the same level they were, at his age. What he isn’t, though, is experienced with performance, with faking it.

He can beat Riku, but he can’t fight Riku and make Riku look good. He can’t let Riku press him _and_ make it look sincere, not to anyone who knows _fighting_.

Riku backs up, then lowers his staff. There’s no way forward—Kimimaro’s too skilled for Riku to force him to step up his game, and not skilled enough to make Riku’s attempt look even close to successful. The offer, while tempting, is a trap, and even if Riku hadn’t _known_ that all along, he could see the design of it here:

If Kimimaro forfeits and Riku moves on, he’ll fight Atsui and get beaten, but it might be enough to secure his promotion. It would also secure the suspicion of anyone competent watching, including his uncle and potentially the Hokage herself—not to mention who-knows-how-much of the Mist audience.

Thinking his way around the problem, Riku abandons his staff, sees Kimimaro back off with narrowed eyes, and starts to form hand-seals, only to jerk back halfway through the third one, scrambling to get away from Kimimaro’s stab. It isn’t any slower or faster than the rest of his attacks, but without a weapon to block it, Riku reacts before he can consciously process the idea that Kimimaro isn’t out to murder him.

Riku’s bounced off a wall, moving in an arc to get more space at his back, when Kimimaro lunges with one sword and brings the other down a hairsbreadth from Riku’s arm as Riku jerks backwards. Or, well, Riku thinks it’s a miss until he flips backward and feels the telltale trickle of blood, then spots a slice that goes from wrist to elbow, right along the bone. He hisses, unbloodied hand fumbling in his pack for a couple of bandages.

He doesn’t have any _this_ big, but he has a couple that will cover it between them, and they’re the slap-and-go kind. (Adhesive on top of the cut isn’t great, medically; blood under the adhesive means it’ll come unstuck at some point, and in the middle of a battle, on an arm he’ll have to use for blocks, flips, and jutsu… Yeah, it’s not ideal. But the bandages will keep the blood from leaking down to his hand, interfering with his grip. Plus, the _last_ thing Riku wants to deal with in this fight is _blood loss_, and all the accompanying symptoms.) Kimimaro eyes his while he does this, making no moves to interrupt.

It could be honor. It’s _definitely_ suspicious, to all the onlookers; Riku can hear the murmurs.

When Riku’s finished, then and only then does Kimimaro press forward. He keeps more distance for a few passes, his swings and stabs laughably far from Riku except for how quickly they come and how much power is behind them. One, Riku dodges and then sees Kimimaro’s blade _gouge the steel floor_.

Riku tries body-flickering away—Kimimaro can’t get at him quickly enough to prevent a single-seal jutsu—and Kimimaro closes with him mere moments later.

Still, there’s a delay. Enough of a delay to get off another jutsu? _Maybe_.

If Riku were Naruto, he could just make a bunch of clones and, while Kimimaro dealt with them, throw genjutsu on him until he couldn’t see straight. As it is, Riku’s single clone barely earns him another two seconds; he gets through three hand-seals of the genjutsu before Kimimaro is back in his face, this time with a stab aimed at his midsection.

(So much for that plan. Riku thought it had merit, and Mariko hadn’t shot it down instantly. If he could throw Kimimaro off even a little, mess with his balance or convince him Riku was really an inch to the left of where he was, that might be a good enough showing. As it is, all Riku’s showing off is his ability to run around a big empty space, and his ability to dodge well-telegraphed attacks. Not exactly a stellar performance.)

Riku’s startled enough that he just jerks back, feet catching on the floor. He rights himself before he goes down, but not before Kimimaro’s sword scrapes along his ribs, and whatever he’s done to his bones is _more_ than enough to go through the supposedly resistant clothes.

This time, Kimimaro doesn’t give Riku time to reach into his pack. He stays on Riku, his strikes still telegraphed and easy enough to parry, but too much a threat for Riku to ignore.

Body-flickering gets him away, but not far enough to get out another bandage, let alone get it underneath his shirt.

“I forfeit,” Riku says, loudly enough to carry throughout the arena, into the audience. He doesn’t want there to be any question, any possibility of a mistake. “You win, Kimimaro.”

Kimimaro wins, and Sound loses. That will have to be enough. Riku clenches and unclenches his fists as he bows, collects his staff, and walks out of the arena.

When the time comes, say yes? Who does Orochimaru think he is, _Sasuke_?

///

Riku spends close to an hour in Mariko’s room, eyeing her bandaged arm and trying not to think about how easy it would be to just reach out and fix—

But no. Not here, not now. The Mist medics are competent enough; they patch up his ribs and pull off the bandages on his arm, coating the wound in antiseptic and then rebandaging it with cloth wrappings. Mariko will be fine.

She will. She _will_. She might even make chuunin.

Outside, the stadium empties; the Mizukage gave a speech, but Riku didn’t leave the clinic. (Some of the medics did, and gave him stink-eye for not, but his _teammate_ is here, and Tsuru can’t be, isn’t allowed. Riku isn’t leaving.)

Miss Kurenai comes by to make arrangements with the medics for Mariko’s transfer to the Konoha embassy. The medics don’t like the sound of that, want to keep her in the hospital, but Miss Kurenai kindly, gently refuses, and eventually they give up. When she goes, she takes Riku with her—over his _strenuous_ objections—with an insincere smile and words to the effect of, “She’ll be fine, but I need you to come with me.”

Halfway to the embassy, Riku realizes his uncle has fallen into step behind him. (How long was he there? Scratch that—did he notice Riku _not_ noticing him? If so, Riku will get to hear about it later, as evidence in favor of his uncle’s “situational awareness training” idea.)

“What’s going on?” he asks Kakashi, as quietly as he can and still be heard over the noise of other people’s conversations, the open door to a furniture store where a man is intensely haggling down the price of a carpet, some kids screaming in laughter just up the block.

Kakashi doesn’t look up from the book in front of his face; Riku can’t make out the title, but the cover is colorful, different from the last one. How he manages not to trip over anyone, Riku has no clue—it could be a jounin technique. Observational skills so good, you don’t even _have_ to look up. (If he was offering to teach Riku _that_, it would be a better argument. Not convincing, by itself, but stronger.)

“The Kage have decided on the promotions,” he says, his tone flat, bored. “Tsunade wants to see you at the embassy.” For a second, Riku freezes, feet stuttering along with his breath; he catches himself, keeps going, but there’s a coldness squeezing in his chest, uneasiness trickling through his spine into the whole rest of him.

Well. There’s no good ending to _that_. If Tsunade wants to see him, it must be because she noticed the same things he did and wants to talk about it—and, maybe, she wants to break it to him gently why she can’t promote him this time.

Kiba and Shino aren’t so bad. Riku can put up with them, for the sake of the exam. And Mariko earned her chuunin title—she paid in blood, it’s only fair. Riku can live with that.

His feet don’t drag, because the last time Riku took the end of a competition poorly, he broke Sora’s arm. But he can’t stop his own feelings. Discomfort is predominant, because he isn’t sure what’s waiting for him, whether it’s another demerit or a dressing-down or just a somber conversation. Worry, about what Tsunade might say, might demand. Irritation that he got _so far_, only to be stymied at the last obstacle by _Sound_.

Relief, carefully squashed down, that he isn’t the one seriously injured. That he won’t have to explain to his mother, to Sora and Kairi, why the Exams were important enough to risk his health, his body, his life. Guilt that he hasn’t healed Mariko yet, that every minute he delays could worsen her condition.

Not letting any of that show on his face occupies Riku the rest of the way to the embassy, where Miss Kurenai leads him back and down, to the secret little office tucked away in the basement. She abandons him at the door with a nod he’d like to think is respectful.

Kakashi follows him in.

There’s no visible alcohol inside, which is unusual for Riku’s meetings with the Hokage. There’s no smell of it, either. Riku’s been assured the woman isn’t _that_ alcoholic by everyone from his ex-girlfriend to his current teammates to his uncle, but he’s never _seen_ it.

Something about him must drive her to drink.

Tsunade looks tired, and she doesn’t ever look old, of course, but she does look weary, weighed-down-upon. The sigh she heaves when nephew and uncle walk into the office is theatrical, and Riku almost doesn’t blame her for it.

“Hatake.” She nods at Kakashi first, then—to his shock—Riku. “Take a seat.”

Riku sits; Kakashi hesitates for a moment, then does the same. He tucks his little book away into a pocket, but without the distraction he looks even more bored.

A deep breath from Tsunade pulls Riku’s eyes away from his uncle to the leader of his village, who looks very much like she would rather be anywhere else. “Alright,” she says, not meeting his eyes because her own are closed, her elbows on the desk and her hands pressed together as if in a prayer for patience. “Riku. I’ve got your reports. Do you have anything to add?” The edge to her voice says he’d better produce _something_.

Luckily, he has something. “Before the Finals, the Sound team offered me more tapes if I accepted something from them. They wouldn’t say what it was, just told me to say ‘yes.’” He wrinkles his nose. “When I was fighting Kimimaro, he offered to forfeit.”

Tsunade breathes out. Her eyes open, focusing not on Riku but on Kakashi. They shift to Riku when she asks, “Why not take him up on it?”

Instant scowl. “I’m not _stupid_,” he says, before he can think better of it. She doesn’t reprimand him, but does raise one eyebrow, and he feels himself flush and adds, “Uh. Miss Kurenai told me to say no. And anyway, you would’ve _known_. Everyone would’ve, and they all would’ve thought I was working with Orochimaru or something.”

“So, it wasn’t worth it,” Kakashi says.

Riku’s eyes flick over to him (still bored, now slouched in his seat and studying Riku) before returning to Tsunade. “Well. Yeah. Besides, it wouldn’t have meant anything, and that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? To prove what I can do? Taking his forfeit would just be proving that I’m weak.”

“Ah.” A silent exchange between her and Kakashi, which is a feat, with how little of Kakashi’s face is available to express anything. “I see. You turned him down because you didn’t want anyone thinking you got a handout from Orochimaru?”

Riku straightens in his seat, fists clenching on his thighs. “I can win on my own. I don’t need someone cheating to help me win.”

Another sigh from Tsunade, although this one seems less aggravated, more resigned. “Well. That explains a few things.” She eyes Riku for a long moment, then straightens in her own seat, making herself somehow more intimidating.

He doesn’t get to ask what things. Under her scrutiny, Riku has to fight, hard, not to fidget or start defending himself. He’s not really the type to take judgment silently, and her gaze feels a little judgey.

“Orochimaru recommended you for chuunin,” she says, finally, bluntly, a fist thrust into the soft part of Riku’s gut. “He decided not to name one of his own genin.”

Riku blinks at her, then turns to Kakashi, still looking bored, still looking at Riku. “That’s allowed?”

Kakashi laughs at him, short and unhappy. “Yes. Usually, the host village will pick one or two foreigners who have proven themselves, but sometimes there are other arrangements.”

Riku really doesn’t like the way he says _arrangements_. “Oh.”

“Exactly,” Tsunade says, and means the implications of Kakashi’s explanation, too. “Orochimaru claims he was impressed with your fortitude and integrity, and Mei at least pretended to believe him.” She groans, moving her hands to press at her temples. “With Mist’s blessing, we can’t refuse without risking our alliance.”

Well. Part of Riku wants to be happy—he’s getting the thing he wanted, his promotion—but he can’t find that feeling. Mostly, he feels dread, a creeping sense that this was Orochimaru’s plan from the beginning, that there were no good options for him. It _still_ feels like he made the wrong one.

Kakashi’s hand on his shoulder drags him out of his thoughts. “Don’t worry so much. You said no. That was the right thing to do.”

“Kakashi is right,” Tsunade says, and. Riku didn’t buy it from his uncle, but Tsunade doesn’t like him enough to lie just so he’ll feel better. “Orochimaru will take that personally. This is just him being a nuisance. I’m more concerned about why he’s targeting you, specifically.”

“You think he knows about the key.”

“Oh, I’m _sure_ he knows,” she waves a hand at that. “You were right in your first report. Having a subordinate mention a key in front of you wasn’t subtle. Orochimaru can be subtle when it suits him, but he has a flair for the dramatic. The girl, the necklace—he’s had all of that planned. No,” a frown, and a very hard look directly into Riku’s eyes and _soul_, “I’m concerned about what he _thinks_ about that key, and your healing, and that he’s focusing on you now, when we know Uchiha left.

“We’ve gotten intelligence that it will take him about two more years to transfer into a new body, and his current one will deteriorate steadily throughout that time.”

The statement seems like a non-sequitur until Kakashi, in a quiet voice, says, “He was interested in Sasuke for his Sharingan. He might think your healing is similar.”

Riku blinks at Kakashi. He feels—jittery; too small and too constrained by his own body.

He isn’t _afraid_ of Orochimaru. (He’s never spoken to him, only been in the same room when it was full and Riku was anonymous in a sea of other “recruits.” He is _terrified_ of that man.) Riku isn’t Sasuke; he isn’t about to run off and promise his _body_ to the guy. (Does _Naruto_ know about any of this?) Orochimaru doesn’t have anything he wants.

A bunch of tapes aren’t worth _that_. There must be another way to find Sakura and Sasuke.

“He’ll make another offer,” Tsunade says. “When he does, report to me. Immediately.” Riku nods, and Tsunade just frowns at him. “I mean it, Hatake. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. _Immediately_. That’s an order. Understand?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Kakashi coughs, and Tsunade rolls her eyes but accepts that. “Good. And we’ll discuss this more in Konoha, but—Hatake, until we figure out Orochimaru’s game, consider yourself grounded.”

That…means nothing to Riku, who hasn’t visited his mom in months, let alone had anyone in his life capable of disciplining him. “What?”

Tsunade looks grim. “You’re grounded. No solo training, no missions, no visits outside the village. In fact,” and this idea seems to be unfolding for her as she says it, with a certain amount of satisfaction in her tone, “let’s kill two birds with one stone. I’ll assign you as Shizune’s assistant. You can help with paperwork, and she’ll tutor you in medical jutsu.”

Riku winces. He can’t think of an immediate future he likes _less_. Tutored in something he’s been told, flat-out, he has no future in? And once again shuffled off to the apprentice (Shizune in this case; Anzu before her) while the _real_ student (Hinata; formerly, Mariko) gets the _real_ training.

(He doesn’t feel any resentment toward Hinata at this idea, just like he didn’t resent Mariko. They didn’t get to choose what their mentors thought of him. They have no say in how he’s trained. But…)

With Gai, he doesn’t mind; Gai never makes Riku feel any less important than his other students, even though they’re his _real_ team and Riku’s just a tagalong. Tenten training him didn’t feel like Gai shifting the responsibility, either—maybe because the two of them chose it, Riku and Tenten, while Gai was in the hospital. Or it could be because Gai kept teaching Riku even after Tenten stepped in. Or it could just be Gai’s perpetually cheerful, determined attitude.

Riku will have none of that if he takes this offer.

Worse, Tsunade is proposing turning Konoha into a prison for him. A pretty prison, to be sure, but a prison nonetheless. Riku’s tolerated the walls the same way he tolerated the ocean, but to be trapped behind them, to _know_ he won’t be allowed out, would be intolerable.

(A sudden pang of unwelcome sympathy for Sasuke stabs through Riku. Was that how he saw the village? There’s an unwelcome corollary to that thought, lurking in the back of Riku’s mind where Kimimaro’s _just say yes_ still echoes.)

“There aren’t any other options?” Riku asks, casting about for one. “Couldn’t I go train with Naruto and Jiraiya?”

He wouldn’t be able to go to the Islands, but at least he’d be _moving_. Kakashi explained, soon after Naruto left, that Riku couldn’t send Naruto letters because the pair traveled around, never staying in one place for too long. The Hokage could get in touch with them, of course, through birds, or sometimes through couriers.

Tsunade makes a face, and Kakashi coughs delicately. “I don’t think that would be wise,” Kakashi says, and if _he_ thinks it’s a bad idea, it really might be.

“Jiraiya’s barely managing one student,” Tsunade says bluntly, “and he picked Naruto.”

So: all the problems of taking the apprenticeship to Shizune, with the added problem of dealing with Jiraiya, _plus_ Riku might not even get the training because it wasn’t like _Naruto_ could train him.

(Well. There are things Naruto could teach him, and Riku could always study on his own, but that sounds about as thrilling as watching paint dry. Whether it would be worse than staying cooped up behind the village walls, he can’t say, but it couldn’t be much better.)

Riku casts about for something, anything else. Tsunade lets him, looking at him with pity. She doesn’t scold him for wasting her time, doesn’t sigh, groan, or look pointedly at a clock. She just watches him calmly, as does his uncle.

His uncle had suggested, so long ago, that he could be a medic or a teacher. Miss Honda had scoffed at that, implying there were other options. Hinata laid some of them out for him, just this week: rescue missions, couriering, Intelligence Department work, an embassy assignment, escort missions.

Rescue and escort missions are right out; on top of Riku’s previous objections, he can’t imagine Tsunade will sign off on letting him leave the village _repeatedly_ when there are plenty of other, more capable nin who _aren’t_ at risk from Orochimaru.

An embassy post won’t work for the same reason, only worse: he’d be a sitting duck for Sound, regardless of where he was posted. Plus, Riku isn’t really…diplomatic. He can barely lie, has no training with negotiations, and he doesn’t even have the historical background the village teaches children. He would _absolutely_ offend someone on his first day, and every other day after that. Nope.

The Intelligence Department… It isn’t all T&I. Ino’s dad works there, which would be awkward, but _awkward_ isn’t good enough to keep him from considering it. No, the problem is similar to working at an embassy: all the work is outside Riku’s skill set, and why would they take him when they have better options?

Which leaves… What do couriers even _do_? They deliver messages to and from the village, sometimes even leaving the borders of Fire Country. (It won’t be seeing other worlds, but…) They don’t stay put, they move _fast_ and take whatever routes they please. (Good luck anticipating where any one courier is at any given time…) Couriers don’t fight.

Couriers _don’t fight_. Riku’s pretty confident about that, but just to check, he asks Kakashi, “Do couriers fight?”

Kakashi blinks at him slowly, then says, “Not really. To defend themselves, maybe, but they outrun their enemies more than they fight them off.” A quick glance at Tsunade, a tip of the head, as if to ask, _is that right?_

“That’s the gist of it,” Tsunade says, sounding a little strangled. “Are you asking to be a courier?”

Back in Sound, Karin had asked him on his first day: _“How were you still running so fast? Are you a courier?”_

And then later, someone else asked how he got so fast, and Sen said: _“Practice. It’s obvious. Were you trained as a courier before you were a medic?”_

He’d told Iruka, back when he first came to the village:_ I know how to run on sand, I can climb trees, and I can swim_. It’s a skill that he had before he came to Konoha, that he improved with Gai and then field-tested in Sound.

Body flickering is the one jutsu he’s really made his own—the one jutsu Sakura taught him, unprompted, after telling him about her family, just before he made genin. (The one thing Sakura _chose_ to teach him, just like Naruto _chose_ to teach Riku how to make shadow clones, and now those are the only two jutsu outside of medical techniques that were at all useful in the Chuunin Exams.)

Riku isn’t the fastest runner Konoha has; he can’t extend his body-flickers as far as Cat can, and he can’t string too many together still. But of all the genin he knows, he can go the farthest in the shortest amount of time, with the quickest recovery time. He has _never_ hit chakra exhaustion with that jutsu alone, only a short disorientation that fades quickly, with no other side-effects.

“Yes,” he says, with finality. And then, an afterthought: “Please.”

He could try to plead his case, could lay out his reasons, but if she won’t hear him out, what’s the point? And none of what he could tell her is _new_. Everything he could say, she already knows. It’s up to her.

She stares at him for a long moment, then slowly lowers her head down to her arms, crossed on top of the desk. She’s quiet about it, so it takes Riku several long, nerve-wracking moments to realize she’s laughing.

He looks at his uncle, but Kakashi, for once, seems as confused as he is.

Eventually, Tsunade collects herself, picks her head up and slides a paper out of the file in front of her, over to Riku and Kakashi. Riku frowns down at it, puzzling out the language, while Kakashi skims over it in seconds and huffs a single laugh, sounding more impressed than amused.

**Document Request**

Requester: Honda Nao, Maito Gai

Document Type(s): Personnel File(s)

Reason for request (select all that apply):

■ Commendation

| 

□ Demerit 

| 

■ Department transfer  
  
---|---|---  
  
□ Mission proposal

| 

□ Betrothal (preliminary)

| 

□ Adoption (preliminary)  
  
□ Change of status

| 

□ Background check

| 

□ Other (specify)   
  
Details:

We, Hatake Riku’s mentors, both recommend him unequivocally for transfer to the courier corps, effective as of his promotion to chuunin. Hatake demonstrates a level of discretion commensurate with the requirements of couriers, as evidenced by the redacted mission reports referenced in his file. He is also dedicated to a personal creed of not killing or maiming others, a noble goal that he has maintained even in dire situations. Because of his honorable choice, he has ruled out many professions that others his age pursue, and he has not let this stop him from growing into a fine young man.

Couriers do often travel to battlefields, but they are rarely called upon to act, and almost never to take a life. This would be an ideal position for Riku, with his skills and dreams. We feel this would be the best environment for him, and that he in turn will be a valuable asset to the courier corps. Currently, no Konoha couriers have extensive medical training, nor the ability to write a coded message only intelligible to another Konoha chuunin. He is coming along well in taijutsu, and successfully completing the Chuunin Exams alone should prove his fighting ability and spirit are equal to his peers’, despite his late start and other obstacles. These assets should not be dismissed lightly.

Hatake has shown that, when challenged, he pushes himself harder to achieve his goals. He has the physical and temperamental skills to excel as a courier, and we believe he will be able to hone his skills further in that profession. Please consider him seriously for this department transfer.

Signature: (signed) (signed)

Status: Granted

Riku looks up from the document, blinking rapidly as his vision wavers. Some of the wording is a pale ghost of Gai, but he can’t picture either of his teachers sitting down and writing _this_.

“I have it on good authority,” Tsunade adds, a hint of humor still in her voice, “that Gai wrote that, and Honda edited.”

He still can’t see it. He blinks again, getting ahold of himself. “How’d they know?”

“Well,” Kakashi says, droll, “I imagine they talked.”

Riku starts, jerking his head around to stare suspiciously at his uncle. Narrows his eyes. “Did _you_ know about this?” Would Gai really write something like this without mentioning it _at all_ to Kakashi? Scratch that. “How long have you known about this?”

His uncle just shrugs. “I’ve never seen that document before in my life,” he says, and Riku knows a sidestep when he hears one.

Before he can interrogate his uncle, though, Tsunade cuts in.

“We’ll have to handle this carefully,” she says. “You won’t be just like any courier. At the first sight of Orochimaru’s influence, you’ll need to retreat. He may not know where you’ll be at any time, but it’s likely he has agents in the village. There’s also always the chance you’ll run into his agents accidentally. Anyone from Sound is a threat. Do you understand?” She eyes him doubtfully. “Your teachers speak highly of you, but if you choose this path, you’ll have to be _much_ more cautious than you’ve been so far. Frankly, I’m not sure you have that level of caution in you, but others,” she taps the document, “have more faith. It will be your job not to betray that faith.”

“I understand,” Riku says, and he does. This is like when the old Hokage talked to him, smoking his pipe and discussing tree trunks and branches. The things you make important, and the things you discard.

Riku chose not to run away, then. Now, he’s making the opposite choice, in a way. To keep moving, constantly. To be always cautious, always on alert.

To see so much more of the world than he has in the year he’s been here. To visit places he can’t imagine. To carry messages, some of them so critical people’s lives depend on them. To help, in a small way—a smaller way than he has been in the hospital, but a way that _only_ he and a few others can.

There aren’t that many couriers in Konoha. And none of them know medical jutsu like Riku does. (Which implies he might need to _use_ it—helping people even more, people _only_ he can help.)

“Would I be able to visit the Islands?” he asks, with dread curling sour in his stomach.

Tsunade heaves a sigh. “It won’t be safe for a while; we should assume Orochimaru will have you under surveillance. ANBU can deal with that when we get to the village, but it’ll take time. Once that’s dealt with… I suppose it’s safe enough, if you don’t go at regular intervals, and vary your route.” She glances at Kakashi, and adds, “I don’t think I need to spell out what will happen if you slip up.”

Riku blanches. Orochimaru knowing about the Islands is—horrifying, terrifying, the stuff of nightmares. The Islands don’t have any defenses against ninja.

“No,” he chokes out, “you don’t.”

Tsunade nods, looking—not happy with herself, but satisfied with Riku’s reaction.

She reaches under her desk and pulls out a chuunin flak jacket. “This is yours, now, Chuunin Hatake. Congratulations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst the epilogue's about the be posted, go read that!


	11. Epilogue: come out of your tailspin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other shoe drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content notes:** Some headcanons and strong language.

Team Medic returns to Konoha with the Hokage’s entourage. The sun has just started dipping into sunset-orange when they touch down, Tsunade and her ANBU light and perfect, Riku’s team noticeably less so.

Miss Kurenai offered to let them go slower, but after talking it over, even Tsuru agreed to rush home and keep inside the security bubble provided by the ANBU. Riku hadn’t cared one way or the other—his ANBU protection detail has been tripled, so even if they’d gone slow, they’d stay safe. He isn’t supposed to know about that, though—Kakashi had let it slip privately—and anyway, he didn’t mind rushing, especially because they’d still had to take a ship to get back to Fire Country.

(He’d caught Cat, once, watching him from a perch in the rigging while Riku hung out in the crow’s nest. Cat had given him a little salute. Riku’s situational awareness is _great_ and doesn’t need any additional training.)

It’s good to be back in Konoha. Back home. And as Riku orders his legs not to turn to jelly, the way they want to after three days of near-continuous running interspersed with leaping when they passed through forests, he spots a handful of distinctive, welcome silhouettes: Gai and his team.

“He wanted to come,” Kakashi says, and Riku didn’t even _notice_ his uncle’s approach. One day, Kakashi will cause someone’s heart attack. “Tsunade had to order him to stay home. It would’ve sent the wrong message, and his bounty in Water Country is astronomical.”

Riku doesn’t doubt that. Before he can do anything, though, there are formalities, courtesies—Gai bows to the Hokage first, and his team show the same deference, the same respect. Riku waits, as patient as he can force himself. His crossed arms and tapping foot aren’t subtle, but it’s all he can do to stand still.

Then the Hokage departs in a swirl of leaves, her ANBU disappearing with her, and Gai greets Riku with a blinding grin and a hearty shoulder-slap. From body language, he went in for a hug and then rethought it.

Tenten doesn’t bother, flinging her arms around him and shouting, “You did it!” with laughter in her voice. She pulls back and socks him in the bicep—not as forceful as Gai’s slap, but not _soft_, either—and adds, “You _jerk_. You just _had_ to beat the rest of us, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” he says, shrugging (ow, that’s gonna bruise, he’ll need to ice it or heal it when he gets back to his place). “You played it safe. I didn’t.” After some consideration, he adds, “Slowpoke.”

She socks him again for that, before Lee scolds her and gives Riku a teary, proud thumbs-up. “Gai-sensei assured us you would prevail. I am sorry for ever doubting you!”

If Lee had, he certainly hadn’t said anything to _Riku_ about it. Not that it would’ve changed anything, but. Riku shakes his head. “Think of it this way: if I did it, that means you can, too.”

_That_ pronouncement sends Lee into a tear-filled tizzy, praising Riku and vowing to live up to the words. Riku, for his part, isn’t worried. The joint Leaf-Sand Chuunin Exam won’t have any Mist or Sound-nin in it, and Lee, Tenten, and Neji are more than capable of proving their worth in any kind of a fair fight.

Of them all, Neji, as usual, is the most laid-back. He and Riku exchange nods, he congratulates Riku, Riku thanks him… Out of the corner of his eye, Riku catches his uncle’s single twinkling eye and remembers the man’s claim that some little Hyuuga girl has a crush. On _Riku_, of all people.

Riku hadn’t brought it up to Hinata, partially because she’s withdrawn even more in the Hokage’s proximity, partially because there hasn’t been a good moment for it. They’ve both been surrounded by people the whole trip, which has kept them safe, but made it too awkward to contemplate asking Hinata if her little sister really _did_ stalk him. If it isn’t true, he’d have to deal with teasing from everyone for believing Kakashi’s joke. If it is true…

It isn’t. But. Neji’s better to ask than Hinata, anyway, since it’s his cousin and not his sister; he’ll think the question is weird, but he won’t take it as personally as Hinata might. Riku will just need to figure out the time and place to ask—now, in front of a crowd, isn’t it.

The rest of the day, and the next couple, pass in a kind of blur. There’s paperwork—so, so much paperwork, and tests to arrange, and a physical, which involves more paperwork, some of it so formal and stylized that Riku’s forced to call Shikamaru in to translate it.

Ms. Honda has kept her word; Riku walks Tsuru to a shift once and finds Ms. Honda in the front lobby, eyeing him suspiciously. Riku raises his hands in surrender and wishes Tsuru luck on her shift before valiantly fleeing from that stare.

Miss Kurenai doesn’t have time to monitor his training, what with her _actual_ team about to take on their own Exams. Riku builds time into his schedule to practice with Tsuru, and when Yakumo shows up at his apartment after his shift one day, he doesn’t think twice about accepting her offer to train as well.

It’s a little like when Naruto tried to spar with him: Yakumo is _clearly_ out of Riku’s league, even without taking her family ability into account. Her genjutsu are all vivid, complicated, nuanced, and Riku gets more out of his conversations with her than any of the actual genjutsu practice.

(Well. He also learns a lot, straining to break her genjutsu; he never does manage it, but she tells him in soft, surprised tones that he gets close, and makes suggestions on how to better adapt to such an intrinsic, powerful genjutsu.

It doesn’t escape Riku that Sasuke’s brother is also infamous for his genjutsu. Riku saw that one, saw it from the inside, saw what it did to Sasuke.

He’d told Naruto they had to reach Kakashi’s level so they could take down Itachi. That goal hasn’t changed; Riku’s shifted his approach, is all. If he can train with Yakumo enough to wriggle out of _her_ genjutsu, he might stand a chance against Itachi’s, and that could make all the difference.)

On top of that, Riku steals little periods of time—half an hour here, a lunch break there, an hour in the dark when he couldn’t get back to sleep—in the library, hunting down any mention of Uzumaki Kushina. What he finds is sparse, and heavily censored, but he collects it all, copying passages painstakingly, creating his own personal reference file for this woman who was, somehow, related to Naruto.

He’s betting this was Naruto’s mom, _maybe_ an aunt. Someone close. Someone who would’ve been there for Naruto, who _should’ve_ been there, and Riku hasn’t quite pieced together why she wasn’t, but he’s getting close. So far, the latest mention of her is about a year and a half before Naruto was born, during the Third Shinobi War, which is inconclusive in terms of what happened to her.

Things settle back into a rhythm. The ANBU are easy to forget about, and Riku starts daydreaming about visiting the Islands. Tsunade hasn’t given him the go-ahead yet, and Riku limits himself to asking only once every three or four days, disguising those trips as visits to Hinata, who appreciates spending time with someone worse at genjutsu _and_ taijutsu than her. (He has her beat at medical ninjutsu for now, so they split the time between her coaching him and him coaching her. Sometimes, someone like Tsunade or Shizune is no good at explaining techniques or concepts because it all came easily to them.

Riku doesn’t have that problem; he had to translate all the medical texts just to _read_ them, let alone understand them. Plus, he tutored Tsuru when she was still all nervous about asking Anzu for help. When Hinata says, “I don’t understand this,” Riku’s got an answer for her.)

///

This time, _this time_, Riku’s ready for the unpleasant surprise. He hasn’t relaxed his guard. Every day, no matter how long or tiring his training was, he checks the whole apartment for anything out of place before returning to the door and toeing off his shoes. He leaves his weapons on him as he makes dinner, leaves them within reach when he showers, sleeps with his knife under his pillow once more.

Two weeks after he returns to the village, Riku comes back to his apartment to find a box of tapes on the kitchen table, the note placed on top with his name and _My end of the bargain_ in plain handwriting.

He’s going to report it, of course. Of course. That, he doesn’t hesitate over. What gives him pause is a single sheet of paper, slid against the side of the box, that he pulls out without disturbing the tapes.

(Ultimately, he reports this too—after carefully copying it onto several spare notebook pages, which he then tears out and carefully hides in a photograph frame, behind a photo of Team Seven.)

In delicate handwriting, the characters all inked in precisely, no doubt with a tiny, traditional ink brush, is an elaborate genealogy, the family tree of the Uzumaki going back to the time of the founding of Konohagakure, the first ninja village.

Listed at the top of the genealogy is _Senju Hashirama_, connected to _Uzumaki Mito_, and down two generations, Riku finds _Senju Tsunade_. Naruto is some cousin of hers, through a cousin of her grandmother. Karin is less distantly related, only a couple of steps away from Naruto.

Riku stares at the chart for several long minutes, still dressed for training, clothes starting to stiffen uncomfortably, shoes still on in the middle of the room.

Karin and Naruto share a great-grandparent.

Less disturbing than that, but somehow more disturbing than the realization that Naruto’s related to Tsunade (that an adult existed who _should_ have taken care of him and she _didn’t_ and Riku _thought he respected her_), are the names linked above Naruto’s. By now, Kushina’s isn’t a surprise, just a validation.

_Namikaze Minato_ is a name Riku hasn’t seen since Sakura tutored him, same as _Senju Hashirama_. Same as _Senju Tobirama_ and _Sarutobi Hiruzen_. Riku was a lackluster student, but he’d tried, for her and Iruka, and some things stuck. The most important things. The names of the Hokage.

“What,” he asks the chart, which has no answers for him, “the fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the one hand, I feel pretty strongly that Disney Characters Shouldn't Cuss, and on the other hand, this feels like a WTF moment for Riku.
> 
> The next arc up will be the Kingdom Hearts 1 arc, which. Ahaha. I have _started_, but we'll see about...posting...
> 
> Expect _Day Trip_ to be up in **two weeks** on the weekend of **December 7-8**. That one is long enough to be a oneshot; I have it written, it just needs significant edits and then polish.


End file.
